Explore "Kate Meredith, Financier" by Cutcliffe Hyne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The fisherman was discontented.
The reasons for his discontent were not plain to the eye. There had been as good a fly water as anyone could want; there had been enough breeze to ruffle the surface, enough cloud to prevent glare; he had picked just the right flies from his book to suit the river, and the fish rose freely to them. He was carrying home as fine a dish of trout as any man could wish for, and had scrupulously thrown back everything under ten and a half inches. But even these things did not please him. He sucked hard at his cold pipe, and bit at fate as he tramped on inn-wards through the gathering dusk.