you had been bored with the whole thing. And then you were
surprised because she threw your slippers at you! _I_ should have
thrown the fire-irons at you.

HIGGINS. We said nothing except that we were tired and wanted to
go to bed. Did we, Pick?

PICKERING [shrugging his shoulders] That was all.

MRS. HIGGINS [ironically] Quite sure?

PICKERING. Absolutely. Really, that was all.

MRS. HIGGINS. You didn't thank her, or pet her, or admire her, or
tell her how splendid she'd been.

HIGGINS [impatiently] But she knew all about that. We didn't make
speeches to her, if that's what you mean.

PICKERING [conscience stricken] Perhaps we were a little
inconsiderate. Is she very angry?

MRS. HIGGINS [returning to her place at the writing-table] Well,
I'm afraid she won't go back to Wimpole Street, especially now
that Mr. Doolittle is able to keep up the position you have
thrust on her; but she says she is quite willing to meet you on
friendly terms and to let bygones be bygones.

HIGGINS [furious] Is she, by George? Ho!