Her first actions and words astonished the hardened bachelor. Kneeling at his bedside with bowed head, she whispered, "Thank heaven you are all right!"
For a moment or two, neither of them spoke. Then Verger reached out and reverently stroked the lustrous, red curls which were pressed against the counterpane just above his chest.
"You're a wonderful woman, Mrs. Green," he murmured. "The lucky chap who married you sure drew a prize."
She surprised him by saying, "My name is not Mrs. Green—and I am not married."
"Then how did you get into the band, which was supposed to be composed exclusively of exiles' wives?" he demanded.
"Oh, that was easy. You see, the real Mrs. Green is a friend of mine. She was selected to join the band and fly to her husband, who is one of the miners here. At the showdown, she lost her nerve. Apparently, she lacked the—the intestinal fortitude that it takes to embark on a space voyage. When I heard she was going to quit, I got her to let me take her place. So here I am."
"But I still don't understand," Verger said. "If you haven't a husband here, why did you go on a journey which you must have known would be full of discomfort and danger?"
She grinned and replied, "Oh, I don't know. I guess it must have been the gypsy in my soul."
"Haven't you ever been married?" he asked.
"Never," she smiled. "I'm one of those things that's commonly called a spinster."