"Why doesn't it?"
"Because what they said is true."
Roger was silent at that, but Judith went on relentlessly.
"You are no account, Roger. By the standards of men who do things in the world, you're good for nothing. You're a good dancer. You can drive a motor car. You know enough about horses to play polo. And when you put your mind to it, you play a good game of cards. Beyond that, what can you do—what are you?"
He eyed her narrowly, and a faint flush rose in his cheeks.
"What do you want me to do—give a catalogue of virtues?" he inquired sarcastically. "What's all this leading to, anyway. Granted that I'm all kinds of a waster, what's the answer?"
Judith was thoughtfully silent for a little while after his question, and when she spoke it was to answer it with another question.
"Have you ever done a single stroke of useful work in your life?"
"Probably not." His tone was a little flippant.
"Why not?"