Josephine compares "that queer little crying noise" inside her to the yeeping of sparrows on the window ledge. Photo by fs-phil, |
Constantia goes into an extended reverie in front of her "favorite Buddha" on the mantelpiece. She contemplates the sunlight on the carpet. She thinks about her mother's death many years earlier and the sisters' inability ever to meet eligible men. Her thoughts turn speculative, "It was only when she came out of the tunnel into the moonlight or by the sea or into a thunderstorm that she felt herself. What did it mean? What was it she was always wanting? What did it all lead to? Now? Now?" At the very end of the story, "she stared at a big cloud where the sun had been."
Many thanks to our group member of long-standing, Peter McGullam, for calling to my attention some comments Mansfield made about the story in a letter to the writer William Gerhardi:
"All was meant, of course, to lead us to that last paragraph, when my two flowerless ones turned with that timid gesture, to the sun. Perhaps now. And after that, it seemed to me, they died as truly as father was dead." (1)In other words, Mansfield's feelings about her characters is that their effective quarantine, whether imposed by their father or themselves, wouldn't end.
(1) "An Introduction to Katherine Mansfield's Short Stories," by Stephanie Forward. Posted on the British Library's website.
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