““Lempriere's Bibliotecha Classica?" she said, reading the title. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "How did you know?" He shrugged, and that lock of hair fell down over his brow at the movement. "I wasn't certain, but you said you liked mythology, and so I asked Mr. Woodson what the most likely book would be for a person who had those interests." He had gotten her a book. Not only that, but it was a book that meant something to her, a fact he couldn't possibly have known. And yet he knew her. "This is the same book I had when I was young." His smile was one of relief, and she felt oddly honored that he cared so much that his gift be a good one. He cared for her. And what she wanted, not what he thought she should want.””
