"You don't?" There was surprise in her voice -- enough genuine surprise that she didn't have the presence of mind to mock him properly. It had never occurred to her that Sharpe wasn't interested in books. She'd just assumed, since their garden conversation, that he had established bibliophilic tastes that quite naturally did not coincide with hers because Sharpe despised the very ground she walked on.

"Oh. Because I went back to the library to find a new story and there were things in there that made me feel...."

Hang on while she searches for the adjective.