Pickering.  You’ve never been broken in properly to the social routine. [Strolling over to the piano] I rather enjoy dipping into it occasionally myself:  it makes me feel young again.  Anyhow, it was a great success:  an immense success.  I was quite frightened once or twice because Eliza was doing it so well.  You see, lots of the real people can’t do it at all:  they’re such fools that they think style comes by nature to people in their position; and so they never learn.  There’s always something professional about doing a thing superlatively well.

Higgins.  Yes:  that’s what drives me mad:  the silly people don’t know their own silly business. [Rising] However, it’s over and done with; and now I can go to bed at last without dreading tomorrow.

Eliza’s beauty becomes murderous.

Pickering.  I think I shall turn in too.  Still, it’s been a great occasion:  a triumph for you.  Good-night. [He goes].

Higgins [following him] Good-night. [Over his shoulder, at the door] Put out the lights, Eliza; and tell Mrs. Pearce not to make coffee for me in the morning:  I’ll take tea. [He goes out].

Eliza tries to control herself and feel indifferent as she rises and walks across to the hearth to switch off the lights.  By the time she gets there she is on the point of screaming.  She sits down in Higgins’s chair and holds on hard to the arms.  Finally she gives way and flings herself furiously on the floor raging.

Higgins [in despairing wrath outside] What the devil have I done with my slippers? [He appears at the door].

Liza [snatching up the slippers, and hurling them at him one after the other with all her force] There are your slippers.  And there.  Take your slippers; and may you never have a day’s luck with them!

Higgins [astounded] What on earth—! [He comes to her].  What’s the matter?  Get up. [He pulls her up].  Anything wrong?

Liza [breathless] Nothing wrong—­with you.  I’ve won your bet for you, haven’t I?  That’s enough for you. I don’t matter, I suppose.

Higgins.  You won my bet!  You!  Presumptuous insect! I won it.  What did you throw those slippers at me for?

Liza.  Because I wanted to smash your face.  I’d like to kill you, you selfish brute.  Why didn’t you leave me where you picked me out of—­in the gutter?  You thank God it’s all over, and that now you can throw me back again there, do you? [She crisps her fingers, frantically].

Higgins [looking at her in cool wonder] The creature is nervous, after all.

Liza [gives a suffocated scream of fury, and instinctively darts her nails at his face]!!

Higgins [catching her wrists] Ah! would you?  Claws in, you cat.  How dare you show your temper to me?  Sit down and be quiet. [He throws her roughly into the easy-chair].