"I know," answered the Piper. "I found the bottle that had held the dreamless sleep. I'm thinking you had thrown it away."
"Yes, I had thrown it away, but only because I was too proud to die at his door—do you understand?"
"Yes, I'm thinking I understand, but go on. You've not told me whether or no you mocked me. What did you mean?"
"I meant," said Evelina, steadfastly, "that if you cared for the woman you had led out of the shadow of the cypress, and for all that was in her heart to give you, she was yours. Not only out of gratitude, but because you have put trust into a heart that has known no trust since its betrayal, and because, where trust is, there may some day come—more."
Her voice sank almost to a whisper, but Piper Tom heard it. He took her hand in his own, and she felt him tremble—she was the strong one, now.
"Spinner in the Sun," he began, huskily, "were you meaning that you'd go with me when I took the highway again, and help me make the world easier for everybody with a hurt heart?"
"Yes," she answered. "You called me and I came—for always."
"Were you meaning that you'd face the storms and the cold with me, and take no heed of the rain—that you'd live on the coarse fare I could pick up from day to day, and never mind it?"
"Yes, I meant all that."
"Were you meaning, perhaps, that you'd make a home for me? Ah, Spinner in the Sun, it takes a woman to make a home!"