keep her in the gutter to the end of her days. Well,
sir, in three months I could pass that girl off as a duchess at an
ambassador's garden party. I could even get her a place as lady's maid
or shop assistant, which requires better English. That's the sort of
thing I do for commercial millionaires. And on the profits of it I do
genuine scientific work in phonetics, and a little as a poet on
Miltonic lines.

THE GENTLEMAN. I am myself a student of Indian dialects; and--

THE NOTE TAKER [eagerly] Are you? Do you know Colonel Pickering, the
author of Spoken Sanscrit?

THE GENTLEMAN. I am Colonel Pickering. Who are you?

THE NOTE TAKER. Henry Higgins, author of Higgins's Universal Alphabet.

PICKERING [with enthusiasm] I came from India to meet you.

HIGGINS. I was going to India to meet you.

PICKERING. Where do you live?

HIGGINS. 27A Wimpole Street. Come and see me tomorrow.

PICKERING. I'm at the Carlton. Come with me now and let's have a jaw
over some supper.

HIGGINS. Right you are.

THE FLOWER GIRL [to Pickering, as he passes her] Buy a flower, kind
gentleman. I'm short for my lodging.

PICKERING. I really haven't any change. I'm sorry [he goes away].

HIGGINS [shocked at girl's mendacity] Liar. You said you could change
half-a-crown.

THE FLOWER GIRL [rising in desperation] You ought to be stuffed with
nails, you ought. [Flinging the basket at his feet] Take the whole
blooming basket for sixpence.

The church clock strikes the second quarter.

HIGGINS [hearing in it the voice of God, rebuking him for his Pharisaic
want of charity to the poor girl] A reminder. [He raises his hat
solemnly; then throws a handful of money into the basket and follows
Pickering].

THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up a half-crown] Ah--ow--ooh! [Picking up a
couple of florins] Aaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up several coins]
Aaaaaah--ow--ooh! [Picking up a half-sovereign]
Aasaaaaaaaaah--ow--ooh!!!

FREDDY [springing out of a taxicab] Got one at last. Hallo! [To the
girl] Where are the two ladies that were here?

THE FLOWER GIRL. They walked to the bus when the rain stopped.

FREDDY. And left me with a cab on my hands. Damnation!

THE FLOWER GIRL [with grandeur] Never you mind, young man. I'm going
home in a taxi. [She sails off to the cab. The driver puts his hand
behind him and holds the door firmly shut against her. Quite
understanding his mistrust, she shows him her handful of money].
Eightpence ain't no object to me, Charl