I'd forgotten how lonely this hill could be. So now I guess you just can't leave. The trees and the hawks and the fish in the pond won't have it, not to mention this one forlorn soul rattling around in his too quiet cave. In all my hours of solitude, I've been steadily retyping the final draft of the novel, incorporating all your careful observations and corrections. If only I'd had your meticulous eye on my previous manuscripts.