Chapter: The Wimpole Street laboratory. Midnight. Nobody in the room. The clock
on the mantelpiece strikes twelve. The fire is not alight: it is a
summer night.

Presently Higgins and Pickering are heard on the stairs.

HIGGINS [calling down to Pickering] I say, Pick: lock up, will you. I
shan't be going out again.

PICKERING. Right. Can Mrs. Pearce go to bed? We don't want anything
more, do we?

HIGGINS. Lord, no!

Eliza opens the door and is seen on the lighted landing in opera cloak,
      brilliant evening dress, and diamonds, with fan, flowers, and all
      accessories. She comes to the hearth, and switches on the electric
      lights there. She is tired: her pallor contrasts strongly with her dark
      eyes and hair; and her expression is almost tragic. She takes off her
      cloak; puts her fan and flowers on the piano; and sits down on the
      bench, brooding and silent. Higgins, in evening dress, with overcoat
      and hat, comes in, carrying a smoking jacket which he has picked up
      downstairs. He takes off the hat and overcoat; throws them carelessly
      on the newspaper stand; disposes of his coat in the same way; puts on
      the smoking jacket; and throws himself wearily into the easy-chair at
      the hearth. Pickering, similarly attired, comes in. He also takes off
      his hat and overcoat, and is about to throw them on Higgins's when he
      hesitates.

      PICKERING. I say: Mrs. Pearce will row if we leave these things lying
      about in the drawing-room.

      HIGGINS. Oh, chuck them over the bannisters into the hall. She'll find
      them there in the morning and put them away all right. She'll think we
      were drunk.

      PICKERING. We are, slightly. Are there any letters?

      HIGGINS. I didn't look. [Pickering takes the overcoats and hats and
      goes down stairs. Higgins begins half singing half yawning an air from
      La Fanciulla del Golden West. Suddenly he stops and exclaims] I wonder
      where the devil my slippers are!

      Eliza looks at him darkly; then leaves the room.

      Higgins yawns again, and resumes his song. Pickering returns, with the
      contents of the letter-box in his hand.

      PICKERING. Only circulars, and this coroneted billet-doux for you. [He
      throws the circulars into the fender, and posts himself on the
      hearthrug, with his back to the grate].

      HIGGINS [glancing at the billet-doux] Money-lender. [He throws the
      letter after the circulars].

      Eliza returns with a pair of large down-at-heel slippers. She places
      them on the carpet before Higgins, and sits as before without a word.

      HIGGINS [yawning again] Oh Lord! What an evening! What a crew! What a
      silly tomfoollery! [He raises his shoe to unlace it, and catches sight
      of the slippers. He stops unlacing and looks at them as if they had
      appeared there of their own accord]. Oh! they're there, are they?

      PICKERING [stretching himself] Well, I feel a bit tired. It's been a
      long day. The garden party, a dinner party, and the opera! Rather too
      much of a good thing. But you've won your bet, Higgins. Eliza did the
      trick, and something to spare, eh?

      HIGGINS [fervently] Thank God it's over!

      Eliza flinches violently; but they take no notice of her; and she
      recovers herself and sits stonily as before.

      PICKERING. Were you nervous at the garden party? I was. Eliza didn't
      seem a bit nervous.

      HIGGINS. Oh, she wasn't nervous. I knew she'd be all right. No, it's
      the strain of putting the job through all these months that has told on
      me. It was interesting enough at first, while we were at the phonetics;
      but after that I got deadly sick of it. If I hadn't backed myself to do
      it I should have chucked the whole thing up two months ago. It was a
      silly notion: the whole thing has been a bore.

      PICKERING. Oh come! the garden party was frightfully exciting. My heart
      began beating like anything.

      HIGGINS. Yes, for the first three minutes. But when I saw we were going
      to win hands down, I felt like a bear in a cage, hanging about doing
      nothing. The dinner was worse: sitting gorging there for over an hour,
      with nobody but a damned fool of a fashionable woman to talk to! I tell
      you, Pickering, never again for me. No more artificial duchesses. The
      whole thing has been simple purgatory.

      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].

      LIZA [crushed by superior strength and weight] What's to become of me?
      What's to become of me?

      HIGGINS. How the devil do I know what's to become of you? What does it
      matter what becomes of you?

      LIZA. You don't care. I know you don't care. You wouldn't care if I was
      dead. I'm nothing to you--not so much as them slippers.

      HIGGINS [thundering] THOSE slippers.

      LIZA [with bitter submission] Those slippers. I didn't think it made
      any difference now.

      A pause. Eliza hopeless and crushed. Higgins a little uneasy.

      HIGGINS [in his loftiest manner] Why have you begun going on like this?
      May I ask whether you complain of your treatment here?

      LIZA. No.

      HIGGINS. Has anybody behaved badly to you? Colonel Pickering? Mrs.
      Pearce? Any of the servants?

      LIZA. No.

      HIGGINS. I presume you don't pretend that I have treated you badly.

      LIZA. No.

      HIGGINS. I am glad to hear it. [He moderates his tone]. Perhaps you're
      tired after the strain of the day. Will you have a glass of champagne?
      [He moves towards the door].

      LIZA. No. [Recollecting her manners] Thank you.

      HIGGINS [good-humored again] This has been coming on you for some days.
      I suppose it was natural for you to be anxious about the garden party.
      But that's all over now. [He pats her kindly on the shoulder. She
      writhes]. There's nothing more to worry about.

      LIZA. No. Nothing more for you to worry about. [She suddenly rises and
      gets away from him by going to the piano bench, where she sits and
      hides her face]. Oh God! I wish I was dead.

      HIGGINS [staring after her in sincere surprise] Why? in heaven's name,
      why? [Reasonably, going to her] Listen to me, Eliza. All this
      irritation is purely subjective.

      LIZA. I don't understand. I'm too ignorant.

      HIGGINS. It's only imagination. Low spirits and nothing else. Nobody's
      hurting you. Nothing's wrong. You go to bed like a good girl and sleep
      it off. Have a little cry and say your prayers: that will make you
      comfortable.

      LIZA. I heard YOUR prayers. "Thank God it's all over!"

      HIGGINS [impatiently] Well, don't you thank God it's all over? Now you
      are free and can do what you like.

      LIZA [pulling herself together in desperation] What am I fit for? What
      have you left me fit for? Where am I to go? What am I to do? What's to
      become of me?

      HIGGINS [enlightened, but not at all impressed] Oh, that's what's
      worrying you, is it? [He thrusts his hands into his pockets, and walks
      about in his usual manner, rattling the contents of his pockets, as if
      condescending to a trivial subject out of pure kindness]. I shouldn't
      bother about it if I were you. I should imagine you won't have much
      difficulty in settling yourself, somewhere or other, though I hadn't
      quite realized that you were going away. [She looks quickly at him: he
      does not look at her, but examines the dessert stand on the piano and
      decides that he will eat an apple]. You might marry, you know. [He
      bites a large piece out of the apple, and munches it noisily]. You see,
      Eliza, all men are not confirmed old bachelors like me and the Colonel.
      Most men are the marrying sort (poor devils!); and you're not
      bad-looking; it's quite a pleasure to look at you sometimes--not now,
      of course, because you're crying and looking as ugly as the very devil;
but when you're all right and quite yourself, you're what I should call
attractive. That is, to the people in the marrying line, you
understand. You go to bed and have a good nice rest; and then get up
and look at yourself in the glass; and you won't feel so cheap.

Eliza again looks at him, speechless, and does not stir.

The look is quite lost on him: he eats his apple with a dreamy
expression of happiness, as it is quite a good one.

HIGGINS [a genial afterthought occurring to him] I daresay my mother
could find some chap or other who would do very well--

LIZA. We were above that at the corner of Tottenham Court Road.

HIGGINS [waking up] What do you mean?

LIZA. I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of
me I'm not fit to sell anything else. I wish you'd left me where you
found me.

HIGGINS [slinging the core of the apple decisively into the grate]
Tosh, Eliza. Don't you insult human relations by dragging all this cant
about buying and selling into it. You needn't marry the fellow if you
don't like him.

LIZA. What else am I to do?

HIGGINS. Oh, lots of things. What about your old idea of a florist's
shop? Pickering could set you up in one: he's lots of money.
[Chuckling] He'll have to pay for all those togs you have been wearing
today; and that, with the hire of the jewellery, will make a big hole
in two hundred pounds. Why, six months ago you would have thought it
the millennium to have a flower shop of your own. Come! you'll be all
right. I must clear off to bed: I'm devilish sleepy. By the way, I came
down for something: I forget what it was.

LIZA. Your slippers.

HIGGINS. Oh yes, of course. You shied them at me. [He picks them up,
    and is going out when she rises and speaks to him].

    LIZA. Before you go, sir--

    HIGGINS [dropping the slippers in his surprise at her calling him sir]
    Eh?

    LIZA. Do my clothes belong to me or to Colonel Pickering?

    HIGGINS [coming back into the room as if her question were the very
    climax of unreason] What the devil use would they be to Pickering?

    LIZA. He might want them for the next girl you pick up to experiment on.

    HIGGINS [shocked and hurt] Is THAT the way you feel towards us?

    LIZA. I don't want to hear anything more about that. All I want to know
    is whether anything belongs to me. My own clothes were burnt.

    HIGGINS. But what does it matter? Why need you start bothering about
    that in the middle of the night?

    LIZA. I want to know what I may take away with me. I don't want to be
    accused of stealing.

    HIGGINS [now deeply wounded] Stealing! You shouldn't have said that,
    Eliza. That shows a want of feeling.

    LIZA. I'm sorry. I'm only a common ignorant girl; and in my station I
    have to be careful. There can't be any feelings between the like of you
    and the like of me. Please will you tell me what belongs to me and what
    doesn't?

    HIGGINS [very sulky] You may take the whole damned houseful if you
    like. Except the jewels. They're hired. Will that satisfy you? [He
    turns on his heel and is about to go in extreme dudgeon].

    LIZA [drinking in his emotion like nectar, and nagging him to provoke a
    further supply] Stop, please. [She takes off her jewels]. Will you take
    these to your room and keep them safe? I don't want to run the risk of
    their being missing.

    HIGGINS [furious] Hand them over. [She puts them into his hands]. If
    these belonged to me instead of to the jeweler, I'd ram them down your
    ungrateful throat. [He perfunctorily thrusts them into his pockets,
    unconsciously decorating himself with the protruding ends of the
    chains].

    LIZA [taking a ring off] This ring isn't the jeweler's: it's the one
    you bought me in Brighton. I don't want it now. [Higgins dashes the
    ring violently into the fireplace, and turns on her so threateningly
    that she crouches over the piano with her hands over her face, and
    exclaims] Don't you hit me.

    HIGGINS. Hit you! You infamous creature, how dare you accuse me of such
    a thing? It is you who have hit me. You have wounded me to the heart.

    LIZA [thrilling with hidden joy] I'm glad. I've got a little of my own
    back, anyhow.

    HIGGINS [with dignity, in his finest professional style] You have
    caused me to lose my temper: a thing that has hardly ever happened to
    me before. I prefer to say nothing more tonight. I am going to bed.

    LIZA [pertly] You'd better leave a note for Mrs. Pearce about the
    coffee; for she won't be told by me.

    HIGGINS [formally] Damn Mrs. Pearce; and damn the coffee; and damn you;
    and damn my own folly in having lavished MY hard-earned knowledge and
    the treasure of my regard and intimacy on a heartless guttersnipe. [He
    goes out with impressive decorum, and spoils it by slamming the door
    savagely].

    Eliza smiles for the first time; expresses her feelings by a wild
    pantomime in which an imitation of Higgins's exit is confused with her
    own triumph; and finally goes down on her knees on the hearthrug to
    look for the ring.

 Midnight at Wimpole Street, some months later. Eliza comes in, looking beautiful but tired. Higgins and Pickering stumble in, drunk and happy. They've just come from a bunch of fancy parties and, well, it turns out their scheme worked. Higgins has won the bet, and is too busy tooting his own horn to congratulate Eliza. He and Pickering talk about the evening's events as though Eliza can't hear them - even though she's sitting right across the room. They act like she's a kind of performing monkey, a puppet, a doll, a robot. By now, though, she's got a much larger vocabulary, and she knows Higgins can be a pretty miserable jerk. Even after she brings Higgins his slippers, the two men don't pay any attention to her. At this point Eliza's just about ready to pull an Incredible Hulk and strangle the two of them. When Higgins asks her to turn off the lights and give Mrs. Pearce his breakfast order, she throws his slippers in his face. She even threatens to kill him. Just as Mrs. Higgins warned, Higgins's work has left Eliza in a pickle. She doesn't know what to do with herself now that he's won his bet, and she's mad. Just like Mrs. Higgins said, she's learned how to act like a lady and now she's worried she won't be able to do anything to make a living. Higgins tries to talk her down, suggests she get married, become a florist, etc., but Eliza doesn't listen. All she wants to do is get out of there, telling Higgins that he can keep all the clothing and jewelry he bought her. This gets Higgins super angry and now he nearly pulls an Incredible Hulk and hits Eliza. He gets so angry that he cusses Eliza out and then storms out of the room. Eliza smiles, for the first time, Shaw tells us, as Higgins slams the door.

