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Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. “What has been happening to me?” said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown! . . . But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn’t at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow. Never mind—a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came—when it was absolutely necessary . . .
Because Miss Brill lives alone, she treats her fur like a pet. She calls it her “dear little thing.” In warmer weather, Miss Brill keeps the fur in a box, carefully treated so that moths do not damage it. Now that there is a chill in the air, she brings it out again. The fur rests alone in its box, just as Miss Brill lives alone in her “little dark room.” She imagines the fur asking her, “What has been happening to me?” Brought out of its lonely existence in its dark box, the fur, its owner playfully imagines, is confused. Its little eyes are dim and sad, but Miss Brill polishes them so that they look livelier. She enjoys having the fur’s eyes looking at her, perhaps because she goes through life unseen. The ellipses at the end of the quote suggest that Miss Brill’s mind wanders, possibly away from accepting her fur’s condition, away from admitting that she, like the fur, is older, deteriorating, and alone.
The ermine toque was alone; she smiled more brightly than ever. But even the band seemed to know what she was feeling and played more softly, played tenderly, and the drum beat, “The Brute! The Brute!” over and over. What would she do? What was going to happen now? But as Miss Brill wondered, the ermine toque turned, raised her hand as though she'd seen some one else, much nicer, just over there, and pattered away.
The gentleman in grey has just blown cigarette smoke into the face of the woman in the ermine toque, rejecting her open friendliness. After this encounter, the ermine toque is alone—physically, since no one else is around her, but also alone emotionally, or so Miss Brill imagines. The band plays the soundtrack to her internal conflict, playing gently and more in tune with her feelings of loneliness. But the music also drums loudly, “The Brute! The Brute!” to show her wounded heart and possibly Miss Brill’s anger at the gentleman’s treatment of the woman. The woman does not let her loneliness show, though. Instead, she “smile(s) more brightly than ever.” Resolute in ending her loneliness, the ermine toque goes off in search of friendlier company. She maintains the hope—or at least the appearance of hope—that she will connect with someone and no longer be alone.
