"Put the thing away! It's a sheer fad to mend it at all.

I don't care what I wear, and I'm sure you don't." "But I do," she protested.

"You must be respectable." "But I am respectable--whatever I wear," argued Burke.

"It's my main characteristic." His brown hand began to draw the garment in dispute away from her, but Sylvia held it tight.
Burke, don't--please--be tiresome! Every woman mends her husband's clothes if there is no one else to do it.

I want to do it.