As she climbed down from the chair she tried to smile—failed miserably. She saw two of the girls exchange glances; noticed Marjorie’s mouth curved in attenuated mockery—and that Warren’s eyes were suddenly very cold.

Bernice’s descent from the barber chair after the fateful haircut is a metaphor for her fall from social grace. Within the few minutes it has taken for the barber to chop her long locks, Bernice has lost all of the standing she has worked so hard to attain. In a public display, Marjorie has regained her right to Warren’s attention and has sealed Bernice’s original fate as her hopelessly inept, bumpkin cousin who will be remembered only in jest. Bernice attempts to display confidence and hide her humiliation, but the performance falters as the promise gives way to reality.

Suddenly she drew in her breath sharply and an expression flashed into her eyes that a practiced character reader might have connected vaguely with the set look she had worn in the barber’s chair—somehow a development of it. It was a quite a new look for Bernice and it carried consequences.

Bernice’s decision to leave Marjorie’s house is the first instance in the story where she asserts her own desires. In this moment, right before leaving, Bernice’s behavior indicates that she has come to a second decision, one born out of her ultimate understanding of the fragility of social performance. Though Marjorie’s actions have called for Bernice to halt her own performance, as her social standing has been destroyed, Bernice realizes that she still holds some power over Marjorie. Through the swift act of vengeance she plots in this moment, Bernice will not only step out of Marjorie’s shadow and shed the norms that have bound her throughout the story, she will also cripple Marjorie’s ability to continue to perform.