50
Pygmalion
your father to pour spirits down her throat like that. It might
have killed her.
LIZA
. Not her. Gin was mother’s milk to her. Besides, he’d
poured so much down his own throat that he knew the good
of it.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL
. Do you mean that he drank?
LIZA
. Drank! My word! Something chronic.
MRS. EYNSFORD HILL
. How dreadful for you!
LIZA
. Not a bit. It never did him no harm what I could see.
But then he did not keep it up regular. [
Cheerfully] On the
burst, as you might say, from time to time. And always more
agreeable when he had a drop in. When he was out of work,
my mother used to give him fourpence and tell him to go
out and not come back until he’d drunk himself cheerful
and loving-like. There’s lots of women has to make their
husbands drunk to make them fit to live with. [Now quite at
her ease] You see, it’s like this. If a man has a bit of a con-
science, it always takes him when he’s sober; and then it makes
him low-spirited. A drop of booze just takes that off and
makes him happy. [
To Freddy, who is in convulsions of sup-
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