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].