I do not know what has possessed me since I began to write this story.
I have grown tired of this river, where the trout are always shy, and
more tired than ever of Colonel Hoylake's fishing stories and his
obituary reflections. The place is haunted for me by the tragic image
of Gabrielle Hewish. It is strange that I should be affected by the
loss of a woman whom I have never seen or known. But I feel that I
cannot stay here any longer. Wherever I go in this valley I am
troubled by a feeling of desolation: a curious feeling, as though some
bright thing had fallen--a kingfisher, a dragon-fly.