MRS. HIGGINS. Very nicely put, indeed, Henry. No woman could resist
such an invitation.
HIGGINS. You let her alone, mother. Let her speak for herself. You will
jolly soon see whether she has an idea that I haven't put into her head
or a word that I haven't put into her mouth. I tell you I have created
this thing out of the squashed cabbage leaves of Covent Garden; and now
she pretends to play the fine lady with me.
MRS. HIGGINS [placidly] Yes, dear; but you'll sit down, won't you?
Higgins sits down again, savagely.
LIZA [to Pickering, taking no apparent notice of Higgins, and working
away deftly] Will you drop me altogether now that the experiment is
over, Colonel Pickering?
PICKERING. Oh don't. You mustn't think of it as an experiment. It
shocks me, somehow.
LIZA. Oh, I'm only a squashed cabbage leaf.
PICKERING [impulsively] No.
LIZA [continuing quietly]--but I owe so much to you that I should be
very unhappy if you forgot me.
PICKERING. It's very kind of you to say so, Miss Doolittle.
LIZA. It's not because you paid for my dresses. I know you are generous
to everybody with money. But it was from you that I learnt really nice
manners; and that is what makes one a lady, isn't it? You see it was so
very difficult for me with the example of Professor Higgins always
before me. I was brought up to be just like him, unable to control
myself, and using bad language on the slightest provocation. And I
should never have known that ladies and gentlemen didn't behave like
that if you hadn't been there.
HIGGINS. Well!!
PICKERING. Oh, that's only his way, you know. He doesn't mean it.
LIZA. Oh, I didn't mean it either, when I was a flower girl. It was
only my way. But you see I did it; and that's what makes the difference
after all.
PICKERING. No doubt. Still, he taught you to speak; and I couldn't have
done that, you know.
LIZA [trivially] Of course: that is his profession.
HIGGINS. Damnation!
LIZA [continuing] It was just like learning to dance in the fashionable
way: there was nothing more than that in it. But do you know what began
my real education?
PICKERING. What?
LIZA [stopping her work for a moment] Your calling me Miss Doolittle
that day when I first came to Wimpole Street. That was the beginning of
self-respect for me. [She resumes her stitching]. And there were a
hundred little things you never noticed, because they came naturally to
you. Things about standing up and taking off your hat and opening
doors--