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 hi