you. I shan't be going out again.

PICKERING. Right. Can Mrs. Pearce go to bed? We don't want
anything more, do we?

HIGGINS. Lord, no!

Eliza opens the door and is seen on the lighted landing in opera
cloak, brilliant evening dress, and diamonds, with fan, flowers,
and all accessories. She comes to the hearth, and switches on the
electric lights there. She is tired: her pallor contrasts
strongly with her dark eyes and hair; and her expression is
almost tragic. She takes off her cloak; puts her fan and flowers
on the piano; and sits down on the bench, brooding and silent.
Higgins, in evening dress, with overcoat and hat, comes in,
carrying a smoking jacket which he has picked up downstairs. He
takes off the hat and overcoat; throws them carelessly on the
newspaper stand; disposes of his coat in the same way; puts on
the smoking jacket; and throws himself wearily into the
easy-chair at the hearth. Pickering, similarly attired, comes in.
He also takes off his hat and overcoat, and is about to throw
them on Higgins's when he hesitates.

PICKERING. I say: Mrs. Pearce will row if we leave these things
lying about in the drawing-room.

HIGGINS. Oh, chuck them over the bannisters into the hall. She'll
find them there in the morning and put them away all right.
She'll think we were drunk.