To the right and left bushes of some sort, golden and crimson, glowed with the colour, even it seemed burnt with the heat, of fire. On the further bank the willows wept in perpetual lamentation, their hair about their shoulders. The river reflected whatever it chose of sky and bridge and burning tree, and when the undergraduate had oared his boat through the reflections they closed again, completely as if he had never been.
This is after she tells what she thinks about women and fiction. She tells them that she will tell them how she came to the conclusion. And, since fiction is sometimes more truthful than fiction, she will tell her story, regardless of whether people regard it as truthful. She is beginning her story with the setting. Her name she sets up as something.