Then, why won't you see that people who beg are rotters?

WELLWYN. But, my dear, we're not all the same. They wouldn't do it
if it wasn't natural to them. One likes to be friendly. What's the
use of being alive if one isn't?

ANN. Daddy, you're hopeless.

WELLWYN. But, look here, Ann, the whole thing's so jolly
complicated. According to Calway, we're to give the State all we can
spare, to make the undeserving deserving. He's a Professor; he ought
to know. But old Hoxton's always dinning it into me that we ought to
support private organisations for helping the deserving, and damn the
undeserving. Well, that's just the opposite. And he's a J.P.
Tremendous experience. And the Vicar seems to be for a little bit of
both. Well, what the devil----? My trouble is, whichever I'm with,
he always converts me. [Ruefully.] And there's no fun in any of
them.

ANN. [Rising.] Oh! Daddy, you are so--don't you know that you're
the despair of all social reformers? [She envelops him.] There's a
tear in the left knee of your trousers. You're not to wear them
again.

WELLWYN. Am I likely to?

ANN. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if it isn't your only pair.
D'you know what I live in terror of?

[WELLWYN gives her a queer and apprehensive look.]