It's really interesting, now that I'm looking for it, to see the sentiments in the language over the whole story. The somber tone of the previous few sentences shifts abruptly to a lighter and happier feeling.

The methodical listing of these actions seem to mirror what is going through Maria's head. She is very meticulous about what she does and gets fixated on the details of mindless tasks.

Maria is very good at her job. However, as we see later, her dedication and attention to detail seem to be manifestations of restless energy coming from the general mundanity of her life.

Clay?

I wonder if this will be the essence of their future relationship, given that he does marry Polly instead of leaving.

This portrays Mrs. Mooney as a harsh and calculating person, suggesting that her hesitance to intervene earlier was deliberate, to trap Mr. Doran in the marriage she was planning for Polly by waiting until it's his best option.

This is really impressive, considering the time period of the story and the fact that they're in a Roman Catholic country where marriage separations would be frowned upon.

She is going back on her decision despite the abuse she faces from her father, trying to convince herself that the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

Dust appears to be a motif of her life at home: old, dreary, but somewhat comforting just the same due to familiarity. It's something that Eveline has no strong positive or negative feelings toward.

The same color is used to describe the drab buildings, suggesting that brown represents love and exoticism (from the bazaar) as well as mundanity.

This is a rather odd thing to put at the end of a story -- I wonder about the significance of the placement. Does it have something to do with Mahony leaving him to the monologue of the man?

The language used to describe this day off is very animated and has a fictional quality - indeed, even the short story's title emanates a quality of mystery and excitement. It shows how these boys view even a relatively small excursion as an adventure.

It seems that the narrator's knowledge of Euclid and Catechism (alluded to briefly at the beginning) stems from Flynn. I wonder how much the narrator has been influenced by him without even realizing.

This sentence is so devastating. It's short, clipped, doesn't bother with the flowery artistry that Mansfield is so skilled with. And as a declarative sentence, it's stating a fact that Mr. Neave now acknowledges (and probably has known for a while), rather than adding uncertainty or surprise as a question or exclamatory sentence might.

The speaker of this line is unclear (we know it's not Mr. Neave), but perhaps that's on purpose.

Mr. Neave finds his family "too rich," having worked all his life to provide them with that richness. He now believes himself to be "out of the picture" since he feels like he barely knows them (probably due to his workaholic tendencies), and he might be unconsciously projecting that sentiment.

He has so many things to enjoy, and yet he doesn't. Everyone is enjoying except for him. And I feel if he does enjoy a little bit, the consequences would not be as drastic as he imagines.

I can sense some of the generational divide in this line (even if I don't trust Harold). I, too, would want Mr. Neave to take a break and would urge him to if I was his child. However, it seems Mr. Neave's stubbornness and fear for what will become of the company under Harold would prevent him from enjoying any retirement.

I love how you can feel Mr. Neave's mind running, all the inflections, interjections, grumblings.

He's the only one who seems to have actually paid attention to her and her reactions -- all the younger men were swept up in the actions and didn't really pay attention to their partner.

It's kind of funny how she might "at least" die, as if it is less than the other options that come afterward.

This phrasing is interesting because it implies that Leila's shyness is a learned behavior or that underneath it her personality is similar to the rest of them.

Another example of her hesitant, tentative nature. Though I also wonder if it's a product of the "newness" she's surrounded by at the moment.

She's overwhelmed by the presence of the Sheridans, maybe as much as she is by the excitement of going to her first ball. Also, she seems to be lonely -- I wonder how much she interacts with her cousins and other relatives.

Same characters as The Garden Party

I feel like his affectionate words are wasted on her, since she seems to have embraced the superficiality of her new friends.

Would someone mind elucidating this? I'm afraid the comparison between Isabel and the rose-bush goes over my head. What exactly is he implying about her character?

This phrasing is very telling. William doesn't feel he's on his way "home" or to meet his family or his wife -- suggests that he no longer has those comforting associations with his destination.

Right away, it's established that Isabel does not appreciate sentimentality or nostalgia, while William has some fondness for "the old days."

Alludes to a series of works by William Hogarth that were intended as commentary on marriages based on wealth or social status. I wonder if that's supposed to imply the origins of William and Isabel's marriage or if the title is more focused on the marriage's decline.

What she is waiting for is not articulated, but I would venture to guess that she is waiting to be considered a real adult (allowed in casinos, trusted to be without someone looking after her, etc.)

This girl is so fascinatingly complex - she is at the entrance to adulthood at 17 and wishes to act like an adult. She loathes spending time with her little brother, rejects the idea of being looked after by the narrator, does makeup exceedingly, and tries to act sophisticated at the tea place. Yet at the same time she bursts out angrily at her mother and brother the way a child might, cannot withstand her temptations for nice food, and refuses to pay for what she has consumed.

This phrasing is interesting. It almost feels like she's doing them a favor by allowing the waitress to bring her a ginger ice cream.

Sounds like something an angry sister would say to her brother -- gives up the pretense of sophistication and maturity to be honest and scathing.

Another instance of deliberately acting very mature -- she wants the narrator to believe that she associates with adults who do smoke.

It seems that the girl actually does want the chocolate, even though she said she doesn't care. Sounds like she is trying to act more mature than she is but stops short of depriving herself of the things she really wants.

This appears to be the narrator's perception of the girl's thoughts towards her brother, rather than their own thoughts. It looks like she is unhappy being associated with him due to his youth (irony, since she is only 17 herself?).

This opposes the angelic imagery used to describe her earlier.

These descriptors remind me of a witch or some other evil supernatural creature. Since the old woman's appearance seems to directly contrast the young girl, is she the demon to the girl's heavenly angel?

I wonder what exactly this signifies. The bag being open is something the girl views as harmful or negative - does that mean Mrs. Raddick tends to be easily fooled or overly trusting?

This glance seems to sum up Mrs. Raddick's attitude towards her daughter -- she defers to her and wants to keep her happy, as though her daughter is doing her a favor by being related to her.

"jetty spears" are hatpins and "toque" is a hat that needs to be secured by hatpins to stay on one's head.

They both seem very aware that Kate is not acting how a servant should, going to great lengths to prove it, but they are doubtful of their accuracy and do not have the strength to confront her about it. This is yet another ability their father's domineering personality seems to have robbed them of.

Now this appears to be a flashback - rather confusing, since there was (rather deliberately, it feels) no introduction. I wonder why this was done.

This is a curious description for a character who appears to be a maid and the ladies whom she serves. I wonder if this bit of commentary reflects her behavior towards them, their perception of her, the dynamic observed by an outsider, or a little bit of everything.

One of the most harmless things to ask for - she's really not "taking advantage" at all

Is "Wee-ary" the word she's looking for, reminiscent of the song Jose sang earlier? Or is she unable to articulate what she believes life to be, since her perception of it has changed in such a short period?

This and previous descriptions of Mrs. Sheridan paint her as a slightly scatterbrained person who has her head in the clouds.

Is it just me or is this really weird?

I really like how 3rd person narration has been used here to peek inside Laura's head -- it makes for a better understanding of her internal world and definitely endears her to the readers already.

This was the ending I was hoping for! Having heard so many stories from my family about how much Britain stole from my ancestors, I was rooting for the Indians from the beginning. It's an incredibly progressive and bold ending for Collins to take, considering that even now so many treasures of India remain in the possession of western countries who refuse to acknowledge how they obtained them

It seems that the Moonstone brought to light the double-life motif seen throughout the novel by showing the hidden sides and actions of several characters in the narrative. We see those and the negative effect of those disappear with the Moonstone. But is it so unlucky to have simply revealed some of the unsavory sides of human character?

This explains the different formatting of Jennings' account - he didn't have time to deliberate and add or remove details like the others did. He was also unable to break his narrative up similarly to how the others did.

This rate is unbelievable, but Godfrey couldn't exactly do anything about it. Luker used this secret of the Moonstone's whereabouts to almost blackmail Godfrey, asking for 1.5x what he lent after one year.

This may also be what emboldened him to propose to Rachel again, convinced that she would no longer want to marry Franklin.

The symbolism of the Law (i.e. law and order) in Bruff's papers and their careless discardment in the wake of the laudanum's effect on Franklin suggest that the influence of opium is above that of human constructs and that it cannot be subjugated by humans.

I wonder if "practised eyes," in Jennings' opinion, refers to those with medical training or those intimately familiar with the effects of opium

I wonder if he is doing this as a means to irritate Jennings due to his skepticism about the experiment or because he really wishes to be so meticulous.

It's really interesting to see the interactions between characters and their opinions of each other having looked into each of their minds. Bruff is a very logical and rational person, and it makes sense that he wouldn't take such an experiment seriously. However, Jennings, having experienced the drastic effects of opium, understands how real its effects are.

I'm a little confused about the distinction here - surely, the two are not mutually exclusive? Also, I'm curious about how Jennings phrased it to make it clear that this experiment is not to clear Franklin's name

This line applies to the text in a lot of different ways. Rachel would undoubtedly be happier if she could forget seeing Franklin taking the Diamond; Franklin would be happier if he could forget the mystery altogether; all the characters may be happier if they could remove the Diamond from their memories. In that sense, it has indeed been a curse

The reason for this interest has never been fully explained to my satisfaction. Is it his appearance? his position? the mysterious circumstances under which he arrived?

Reminds me of when Hercule Poirot retired from detective work to grow marrows, before he was pulled back into it by the murder of Roger Ackroyd :)

A rather cold evaluation of Rosanna's character. I'm uncertain how true this is, but I have appreciated Bruff's clearsighted judgement so far.

Considering that servility relates to subservience and eagerness to please, I find this juxtaposition of words remarkable. Why does Bruff have this seemingly inexplicable disgust towards Luker's actions?

The language used to describe both this visitor and the visit is distinctly non-human in quality. These are all adjectives one might use to describe an animal - indeed, the last one references one outright!

Background connection with the Diamond more extensive than I realized

Interesting that they're writing in the sequence that we're reading, rather than providing accounts of everything they know about the affair.

Again the lawyer's precision shines through.

I love the parallel, repetitive phrasing of these lines. They attribute so many varied and almost contradictory qualities to Rachel, showing, in my opinion, that Braff has the most well-rounded and complex understanding of her character, compared to the other two narrators.

This sentence gives insight on Bruff's logical and linear thought process, fitting of someone with a lawyer's training. I expect this narration will be very different from Betteredge's ramblings or Clack's numerous references to Christianity. However, it may tell us less about Bruff's personal opinions or those of other characters since they may be deemed unimportant to his narrative and filtered out.

It seems that Clack's opinion of Godfrey changes completely upon hearing these words. I wonder what an analysis of her descriptions of him before and after would yield.

It seems, especially taking into account the next paragraph, that Clack may view the Betteredges poorly due to perceived impiety - Betteredge's book of preference is Robinson Crusoe, not the Bible, and Penelope does not act subserviently.

I've never heard this term before, but I assume it means that he has some sort of enlightenment resulting from religious and spiritual fulfillment. Coming from someone who appears to be very religious, I would view this as a compliment. However, considering how Clack speaks of Franklin in the following sentences, my interpretation seems to be off. Any ideas as to what this phrase means?

This is similar to a statement Betteredge made of Godfrey, and in that he was proven wrong by Penelope and, it appears, Rachel. Is his evaluation of female perceptions of Franklin similarly mistaken?

This clearly shows how Betteredge puts Lady Verinder on a pedestal and believes her intellect and judgement to be superior to most. I wonder if the meaning could be extended beyond that. "Take anything" is quite vague - does this impression of Betteredge's extend to, for instance, Verinder's tea?

Yet another mention by Betteredge of Franklin's foreignness. This time, the simile it is accompanied by shows explicitly his disdain for those foreign characteristics and creates a more visceral image of how Franklin exhibits those various mannerisms.

This is an interesting observation (one that I'm not sure I agree with) on the nature of women. I wonder what exactly (other than this specific instance) compelled Betteredge to share this piece of advice.

It's interesting that Betteredge still so willfully doubts the reasoning of Cuff and has a sort of mental block to admitting that he could be on the right track. His biases blind him to being a good investigator and he almost looks on Cuff's efforts with disdain, satisfied by the idea that his investigations would be fruitless

The shift in style to this methodical way of reporting events is interesting - I wonder why Betteredge chooses to use it. It does help to contrast the servants' interactions with and opinions about Cuff by making everything so uniform and easily comparable

The phrasing of the sentence and the exclamation reveal Betteredge's surprise and slightly sarcastic doubt of Cuff. This is reminiscent of the doubt characters have had of people like Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot due to their peculiar interests and obsessions.

This is directly contradictory to what he said before - that they would not hesitate to sacrifice a life to restore the moonstone. The prior statement seems to imply that Murthwaite views Indians as savage murderers who care more for their social status than the lives of others. I am confused about what exactly his true feelings are. If he does feel both, does that imply that the willingness to kill is wonderful??

It's fascinating to see how differently Penelope and her father judge Godfrey's character. I initially attributed this difference to gender, sexism, or the generational divide between the two, but it seems that other young women feel similarly to Betteredge.

This clarifies that the audience of this work, whoever Betteredge refers to as "you," is a man of married age but young enough to take advice about his spouse from a man in his seventies.

I find the connections between Germany and objectivity and France and subjectivity amusing stereotypes. It becomes more so considering that England is neither, likely in the middle, and that both of these associations have remained to this day.

I feel it is presumptuous of the narrator to call his fiance a fool to wish to marry him despite his offer. In my opinion, he himself was rather foolish for taking such an economic approach to marriage and proposing in the first place; it seems he forgets that the fault is also his own and wishes to lay blame elsewhere.

I have grown up with stories from my parents and grandparents about how gleefully the British came to India and pillaged its wealth. I have also read numerous old British novels about India, and few (that I have come across) openly disdain the actions there. Logically, I know that not everyone felt that this devastation was correct, but the consistently negative connotations in the words that describe this scene, coupled with the time period in which it was written, suggest that Collins and our narrator were very progressive and unconcerned about criticizing the actions of the empire.