PICKERING. Oh, that's only his way, you know. He doesn't mean it.

LIZA. Oh, I didn't mean it either, when I was a flower girl. It
was only my way. But you see I did it; and that's what makes the
difference after all.

PICKERING. No doubt. Still, he taught you to speak; and I
couldn't have done that, you know.

LIZA [trivially] Of course: that is his profession.

HIGGINS. Damnation!

LIZA [continuing] It was just like learning to dance in the
fashionable way: there was nothing more than that in it. But do
you know what began my real education?

PICKERING. What?

LIZA [stopping her work for a moment] Your calling me Miss
Doolittle that day when I first came to Wimpole Street. That was
the beginning of self-respect for me. [She resumes her
stitching]. And there were a hundred little things you never
noticed, because they came naturally to you. Things about
standing up and taking off your hat and opening doors--

PICKERING. Oh, that was nothing.

LIZA. Yes: things that showed you thought and felt about me as if
I were something better than a scullerymaid; though of course I