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The arrival of two young lovers breaks Miss Brill’s moment of epiphany and longing. The beautifully dressed couple sits on her bench, where the silent old couple had been. Miss Brill imagines that the two are the hero and heroine of their shared play. She even imagines the couple’s backstory, fantasizing that they have just arrived from the boy’s father’s yacht. Still joyful from her revelation, Miss Brill eagerly listens, awaiting what elegant, profound lines of dialogue they will recite.
The couple makes no attempt to hide their conversation. The girl refuses the boy’s advances, frustrating the boy. He asks if her unwillingness is because of Miss Brill, whom he refers to as a “stupid old thing.” He wonders aloud why Miss Brill is there, why anyone would want her to be there, and why she doesn’t just “keep her silly old mug at home.” The girl joins in belittling her. Miss Brill’s fur, she says, has spoiled her mood. She calls it funny, laughing at it and comparing it to a fried fish. Heartlessly, the boy shoos away Miss Brill in an angry whisper. He again attempts to charm the girl with sweet words spoken in elegant French, but she resumes her flirtatious refusal.
Dejected, Miss Brill leaves the park. On any other Sunday, she would stop at the bakery on her way home to buy a slice of honey cake as a treat. Sometimes her slice of cake would have an almond in it, which was always a pleasant surprise. The anticipation of eating the cake with fresh-brewed tea is one of Miss Brill’s simple pleasures.
This day, however, she passes by the bakery without stopping. She climbs the stairs to her apartment, which she now refers to as “the little dark room.” She sits quietly on the bed for a long time. She returns her fur to its box, quickly, without looking at it. She thinks that she hears something crying as she places the lid on the box.
