"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. Then he turned with a fierce movement to take her into his arms. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. "I don't think that's likely. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. When you've admitted him, steal into the room, hide yourself, and don't move till I utter the words, 'You've a long journey before you. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. He meditated, and began a new paragraph.
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