He turned toward the bookshelf, his back to her, saying nothing. He held out one hand and she gave him the Eliot to shelve. His voice was rough. “‘Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.’” Caroline stepped back into her heels. “I always thought she stole that line from Homer. He was all about the ‘winged words’ in the Odyssey, and then Eliot comes along with that line and everyone falls all over it.” Brooks seemed to be examining the shelf again. “I thought you liked George Eliot.” “I do. I think she was brilliant. But what does that line mean, anyway? Is it about influence? Writing? Distance?” She shrugged, wishing he would step away from the books and turn around. “Maybe it means that sometimes what we say doesn’t come across the way we mean it to.” He finally turned, his lips tilted up a bit at the corners. “I always liked ‘nothing is so good as it seems beforehand.’ I think that’s the perfect Eliot quote for the moment we head off to a garden party.