Goring good-for-nothing?

[MABEL CHILTERN is a perfect example of the English type of
prettiness, the apple-blossom type. She has all the fragrance and
freedom of a flower. There is ripple after ripple of sunlight in her
hair, and the little mouth, with its parted lips, is expectant, like
the mouth of a child. She has the fascinating tyranny of youth, and
the astonishing courage of innocence. To sane people she is not
reminiscent of any work of art. But she is really like a Tanagra
statuette, and would be rather annoyed if she were told so.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Because he leads such an idle life.

MABEL CHILTERN. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the
Row at ten o'clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a
week, changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out
every night of the season. You don't call that leading an idle life,
do you?

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Looking at her with a kindly twinkle in his eyes.]
You are a very charming young lady!

MABEL CHILTERN. How sweet of you to say that, Lord Caversham! Do
come to us more often. You know we are always at home on Wednesdays,
and you look so well with your star!

LORD CAVERSHAM. Never go anywhere now. Sick of London Society.
Shouldn't mind being introduced to my own tailor; he always votes on
the right side. But object strongly to being sent down to dinner
with my wife's milliner. Never could stand Lady Caversham's bonnets.