"I don't know."
"Don't you ever think the beasts are living creatures like ourselves?"
"Yes," she said. "Certainly. I wanted to ask you: do you think the beasts have souls?"
"Yes. I think so."
"The minister says not. But I think they have souls…. Sometimes," she added, "I think I must have been an animal in a previous existence."
He began to laugh.
"There's nothing to laugh at," she said (she laughed too). "That is one of the stories I used to tell myself when I was little. I used to pretend to be a cat, a dog, a bird, a foal, a heifer. I was conscious of all their desires. I wanted to be in their skins or their feathers for a little while: and it used to be as though I really was. You can't understand that?"
"You are a strange creature. But if you feel such kinship with the beasts how can you bear to hurt them?"
"One is always hurting some one. Some people hurt me. I hurt other people. That's the way of the world. I don't complain. We can't afford to be squeamish in life! I often hurt myself for the pleasure of it."
"Hurt yourself?"