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.