Eva
Maugham can always be counted upon to use imagery to great effect for the purpose of describing character. He has a flair for vivid physical portraiture that that relies not too heavily but quite efficiently upon metaphor and allusion to bring forth a character to palpable life. Such as this description of the girl that Edward throws over a Chicago girl for:
“She had dark, splendid eyes and a red mouth tremulous with laughter; but her skin was brown, and her curling hair, rippling down her-shoulders, was coal black. She wore but one garment, a Mother Hubbard of pink cotton, her feet were bare, and she was crowned with a wreath of white scented flowers. She was a lovely creature. She was like a goddess of the Polynesian spring.”
Bateman
Weirdly, Bateman Hunter is beyond all question the most uninteresting person in the story yet is not an uninteresting character. Meaning that, yes, if you met him in real life it would probably be torture, but somehow Maugham engages the power of imagery when Bateman speaks to make his very lack of imagination fascinating. Such as his complete inability to even begin to understand what Edward finds so appealing about doing nothing:
“Man alive, you can't live here all your life. This is no life for a man. It's a living death. Oh, Edward, come away at once, before it's too late. I've felt that something was wrong. You're infatuated with the place, you've succumbed to evil influences, but it only requires a wrench, and when you're free from these surroundings you'll thank all the gods there be. You'll be like a dope-fiend when he's broken from his drug. You'll see then that for two years you've been breathing poisoned air. You can't imagine what a relief it will be when you fill your lungs once more with the fresh, pure air of your native country."
Edward
By contrast, Edward Barnard is an interesting character, but his grasp of imagery somehow manages to fall short of his dullard friend. They both fell in love with Isabel and, rightfully, Bateman shall win what passes for a heart. It is easy to see how lightly Edward speaks of a future without the woman he had planned to marry. But either he is trying not to make his case to Bateman or he just doesn’t have the ability to communicate the full depth of his intellectual superiority:
“Sometimes, when you are married to Isabel, you will think of me. I shall build myself a house on my coral island and I shall live there, looking after my trees--getting the fruit out of the nuts in the same old way that they have done for unnumbered years--I shall grow all sorts of things in my garden, and I shall fish. There will be enough work to keep me busy and not enough to make me dull. I shall have my books and Eva, children, I hope, and above all, the infinite variety of the sea and the sky, the freshness of the dawn and the beauty of the sunset, and the rich magnificence of the night.”
Isabel
The final imagery of the story reveals that Bateman and Isabel were meant for each other. They are two of a kind so oppressively lacking in depth that together they barely make one. The imagery illustrates the power of true love existing as two minds with just one ability to think. The future is set and Edward will thank his lucky stars he made the escape:
“He would wear horn spectacles. And she, with the delicious pressure of his arms about her, sighed with happiness, for she thought of the exquisite house she would have, full of antique furniture, and of the concerts she would give, and of the thés dansants, and the dinners to which only the most cultured people would come. Bateman should wear horn spectacles.”
