Bertha’s husband, Harry Young, has the brusqueness and insulting frankness of a playground bully. Unfortunately, Bertha misreads these qualities, interpreting them as noble traits, at best, or simply endearing idiosyncrasies. Either way, she is not as perspicacious as she believes herself to be. This disconnect is to be expected in a young wife who maintains a delusion of a perfect lifestyle and marriage. She happily believes that “Harry and she were as much in love as ever” (Paragraph 53). Ironically, this quantification of their love is more apt than she knows. As the story ends, and Harry’s infidelity is revealed, it can be assumed that Harry’s love for her has maintained its minimal level of intensity. Harry and Bertha are pals. He treats her with off-handed affection and uses phrase like “liver frozen, my dear girl,” or “pure flatulence,” or “kidney disease” (Paragraph 47). On the other hand, Harry and Pearl are lovers; he touches her with passion and “his lips [say]: ‘I adore you’” (Paragraph 147).

One of the more ironic elements of the story is Bertha’s deeply entrenched belief that she understands her husband. To a degree, this is true. Bertha knows “how he loved doing things at high pressure” (Paragraph 77), and she regards this quality with fond appreciation. When he returns home—hurrying inside and banging the front door opened and closed, Bertha knows that this is all part of his finely-honed persona. He believes that taking an extra five minutes to join the group matters and justifies his haste, but he will “make a great point of coming into the drawing-room, extravagantly cool and collected” (Paragraph 77). This bombastic narcissism is evident throughout the story. Bertha’s intuitive grasp that this behavior “made him just occasionally, to other people, who didn’t know him well, a little ridiculous” shows that she does understand her husband to a degree (Paragraph 78). If Bertha had recognized that his capacity to portray himself in multiple ways hides a duplicitous personality, she may have read the signs of his cheating.

Bertha’s growing self-awareness impacts her relationship with Harry. The first indication of this growth is their phone call. Bertha has been in the grip of her confusing bliss, which reaches a crescendo while she is feeding her daughter. Bertha’s happiness and confusion transfer to the phone call. While Harry relates typical information—he’s running late, hold dinner for him—Bertha struggles with her feelings, replying to him with excitement. Her desire to express herself is evident, “she only wanted to get in touch with him for a moment,” and her inability to do so is clear because she believes that “she couldn’t absurdly cry: ‘Hasn’t it been a divine day!’ ‘(Paragraph 39). Not only does Bertha miss the opportunity to grow her relationship with her husband, but Harry shows his impatience when he demands to know what she wants to say. Bertha says nothing; Harry learns nothing of her inner self.

While Bertha is attempting to figure out Pearl Fulton, she asks Harry if he believes Pearl is hiding a deeper self. When he dismisses the possibility with his typical insulting comments saying that Pearl is dull, cold, and possibly mentally deficient, he is not only hiding his affair, but he’s also shutting down Bertha’s self-growth. Clearly, they have discussed Miss Fulton, and if Harry behaved true to form during those discussions, he would have been discomfited by his wife’s interest in his lover. If he were at all perceptive, he would have understood that Bertha’s interest in Pearl was just as sexual as his own interest. Bertha rhapsodizes that the way Pearl has of “sitting with her head a little on one side, and smiling, has something behind it, Harry, and I must find out what that something is” (Paragraph 45). Her unfaithful husband cuts into that possibility by saying, “most likely it’s a good stomach” (Paragraph 46). It is interesting to speculate how this story could have turned out differently is Bertha and Harry had an honest discussion about Pearl. Not only would Bertha have faced her sexual identity, but Harry would have glimpsed his wife’s ability to feel physical passion.

Bertha’s sexual indifference is a reality that the couple accepts. She loves Harry and had been in love with him, but her love was not physical in nature: “And equally, of course, she’d understood that he was different. They’d discussed it so often” (Paragraph 129). The fact that she had been very worried about her lack of interest changes when it is apparent that “after a time it had not seemed to matter” (Paragraph 129). Probably Miss Fulton is not Harry’s first extramarital lover. Although both Harry and Bertha love Pearl, the way the love is portrayed is very different. Bertha’s love is symbolized by nature images: the garden, the pear tree, and the moonlit sky.

They were “caught in that circle of unearthly light,” and Bertha describes what she believes to be their mutual feelings as “blissful treasure that burned in their bosoms and dropped, in silver flowers, from their hair and hands” (Paragraph 116). Bertha channels her desire for Pearl into an unexpected but joyfully welcomed desire for her husband. So much so that the unfaithfulness—both Harry’s and Pearl’s—is doubly painful. The audience comprehends Harry’s love for Pearl through Bertha’s eyes. Thus, his feelings are described as primitive and harsh, while natural imagery is still used to describe Pearl. Harry is seen “tossing the coat away” and turning Pearl violently toward him. His “nostrils quivered; his lips curled back in a hideous grin” (Paragraph 147). Pearl lays her “moonbeam fingers on his cheeks,” smiles sleepily, and agrees to tomorrow’s rendezvous with her eyelids (Paragraph 147). At the very end of the story, Harry’s personality is encapsulated with the line: “‘I’ll shut up shop,’ said Harry, extravagantly cool and collected” (Paragraph 156). The liar, the prevaricator, the performer until the end.

The enigmatic jewel of the story, Miss Fulton tantalizes both Bertha and Harry Young. Most of the text that describes Pearl is spent explaining how inexplicable she is. This paradox largely contributes to the character’s allure. Bertha had met Miss Fulton at their club and fell in love. This infatuation is not surprising, as Bertha “always did fall in love with beautiful women who had something strange about them” (Paragraph 42). Reflections on Bertha’s obsession with Pearl’s mysteriousness runs parallel to Harry’s dogged attempts to deflect Bertha from the topic. Harry is successful in disguising his own obsession with Miss Fulton. In fact, Bertha is convinced that he has misjudged her new find and goes so far as to plan to bring her—metaphorically—to their bed. She decides, “I shall try to tell you when we are in bed tonight what has been happening. What she and I have shared” (Paragraph 125). Ironically, Bertha and Pearl have shared very little, Harry and Pearl quite a lot.

There is much build up to Miss Fulton’s arrival at the party. The other guests have long since arrived when a taxi pulls up outside. “And then Miss Fulton, all in silver, with a silver fillet binding her pale blonde hair, came in smiling, her head a little on one side. ‘Am I late?’” (Paragraphs 84-85). As an entrance, it is extraordinary.

Although all of Miss Fulton’s qualities relate to mystery, they can also be interpreted as sly and sneaky. Bertha is provoked by the fact that despite the number of times they have held meaningful conversations, she still “couldn’t make her out. Up to a certain point Miss Fulton was rarely, wonderfully frank, but the certain point was there, and beyond that she would not go” (Paragraph 43). This detail foreshadows the revelation; clearly Miss Fulton cannot be completely frank. What Bertha perceives as mystery is slyness. Additionally, Pearl rarely makes eye contact with others, and “her heavy eyelids lay upon her eyes and a strange half-smile came and went upon her lips” (Paragraph 88). Bertha is charmed by these qualities—lack of eye contact and half-smile—that can easily be attributed to sneakiness.

Bertha’s anticipation of something special builds up throughout the mundanity of the dinner. Although happily participating in the conversation around her, part of Bertha’s mind is trying to figure out why she feels so connected to Miss Fulton. She describes the feelings as miraculous and exact and instant. She attributes the feelings as uniquely feminine, and determines that during coffee, Pearl will give a sign that she feels the same connection. Unfortunately, Bertha misinterprets Pearl just as much as she does Harry. When Miss Fulton asks in her “cool, sleepy voice” if Bertha has a garden, Bertha believes that this is the sign she is waiting for (Paragraph 112). She feels that it “was so exquisite on her part that all Bertha could do was obey. She crossed the room, pulled the curtains apart, and opened those long windows. ‘There!’ she breathed” (Paragraphs 113-14). Symbolically, because the garden itself is so closely tied to her budding sensuality, Bertha has revealed herself in that moment, opening the windows to herself in a compelling response to Pearl. But all that really happens is a socially acceptable triviality. Miss Fulton asks if Mrs. Young has a garden. She is shown the garden. They stand there in the moonlight “forever—for a moment”; Miss Fulton may or may not have murmured, “Yes. Just that” (Paragraph 117); and Bertha may or may not have dreamed the whole incident.

Even after finding Pearl in her husband’s embrace, and the whole reality of the love triangle is exposed, Bertha still cannot clearly understand Miss Fulton. After shaking Bertha’s hand with the same slender fingers that were just caressing Harry’s cheek, Miss Fulton murmurs, “your lovely pear tree!” (Paragraph 154). These words repeat in Bertha’s mind: “your lovely pear tree—pear tree—pear tree” symbolizing that Pearl has not just destroyed Bertha’s marriage but also tainted the simplistic beauty of the tree (Paragraph 157). Furthermore, Bertha as symbolized by the pear tree, will no longer stand tall and slender in “fullest, richest bloom” nor have “not a single bud or faded petal” (Paragraph 49).

Mr. and Mrs. Norman Knight, although unique individuals, are so closely linked that they essentially function as one character. “In their home and among their friends they called each other Face and Mug,” nicknames that represent their sameness (Paragraph 59). She is Face and he is Mug—a British slang word for a face. Additionally, she is only ever referred to as Mrs. Norman Knight, a symbol of how closely her identify is merged with her husband. Directly characterized as “a very sound couple” (Paragraph 42), the Norman Knights are guests at the Youngs’ dinner party. They bring with them charming idiosyncrasies that provide lighthearted moments in the short story.

Norman Knight “was about to start a theatre” (Paragraph 42). He conveys a philanthropic attitude, hoping to use this future venue for unknown young playwrights. He declares that ‘London is simply teeming with first-chop, unwritten plays. What I want to say to ‘em is: ‘Here’s the theatre. Fire ahead’” (Paragraph 119). Such enthusiasm for assisting others is also evident in the Monkey Coat on the Train anecdote. His wife credits “Norman [as] being the protective fluke” who enabled her to make it to the party (Paragraph 58). The symbolic nature of a name is suggested in Norman Knight—a normal man with chivalric tendencies. Bertha also reads chivalry in Norman’s actions when he declines staying for a whiskey before catching the last train. Overwhelmed with desire for her husband, Bertha wants the party to end and her guests to leave. Thus, when she says goodbye to Norman, “Bertha squeezed his hand […] as she shook it” interpreting his behavior as gallantry (Paragraph 134).

Mrs. Norman Knight exudes energy and movement; as such, she is a foil to Pearl Fulton’s stillness and ennui. Face enters the house wearing a “most amusing orange coat with a procession of black monkeys round the hem and up the fronts” (Paragraph 57). She is consistently associated with these spirited animals. Bertha notes that once Mrs. Knight takes off her coat, “she did look like a very intelligent monkey—who had even made that yellow silk dress out of scraped banana skins” (Paragraph 61). Bertha is fondly amused by this association.

During dinner, when Bertha is brimming with happiness, she realizes she must channel her exuberance into talking and laughter. It is Mrs. Knight who provides the outlet when Bertha “noticed Face’s funny little habit of tucking something down the front of her bodice—as if she kept a tiny, secret hoard of nuts there, too…” (Paragraph 106).

Ironically, Face is “awfully keen on interior decoration” but her artistic claims are affectations (Paragraph 42). She describes the room she is going to decorate for another couple—the Jacob Nathans. When she says she is “so tempted to do a fried-fish scheme” her statement seems less facetious than she intends (Paragraph 120). The frying-pan shaped chairs and curtains embroidered with “lovely chip potatoes” seem to be a definite possibility (Paragraph 120). In this way, Mrs. Norman Knight also contrasts Bertha. Bertha’s fashion sense is understated--she wears “a white dress, a string of jade beads” (Paragraph 56). And she sees beauty in balance—the flowers, the fruit arrangement, the dying fire—all qualities that Mrs. Knight lacks.