“That will pay for your board, including your breakfast this morning,” he said. “We’ll breakfast together presently if you like; and meanwhile suppose we sit down and watch the sunrise. I haven’t seen it for years.”
He pushed two chairs toward the window, and they sat down side by side. The light came gradually, with the icy reluctance of winter; at last a red disk pushed itself above the opposite house-tops and a long cold gleam slanted across their window. They did not talk much; there was a silencing awe in the spectacle.
Presently Woburn rose and looked again at his watch.
“I must go and cover up my dress-coat”, he said, “and you had better put on your hat and jacket. We shall have to be starting in half an hour.”
As he turned away she laid her hand on his arm.
“You haven’t even told me your name,” she said.
“No,” he answered; “but if you get safely back to Joe you can call me Providence.”
“But how am I to send you the money?”
“Oh—well, I’ll write you a line in a day or two and give you my address; I don’t know myself what it will be; I’m a wanderer on the face of the earth.”
“But you must have my name if you mean to write to me.”