DEAR MISS MANNERS: Over the past few years I've made a concerted effort to improve myself in many ways. One goal has been to examine my life up to this point, recognize mistakes and affronts I've made, and set them right.

In some cases, I'm not sure how to go about the last step. Let's say, hypothetically of course, that in high school I was jealous of a particular friend of mine and from time to time I was rude to her in a non-obvious way, in order to feel better about myself. Say, for instance, that one night I arranged for her to be uninvited to a party. Then let's say that over the past 20 years or so I've grown up and don't do that type of thing anymore, but I still feel bad about mistreating this friend.

Imagine that I don't know how much this friend realized that I was being rude to her, and how much of my rudeness went unnoticed. Imagine also that she and I have kept in touch over the years through Christmas cards and have warm conversations every five to 10 years at reunions, etc.

So, in this purely hypothetical situation, should I make a formal apology for my behavior or not? I fear that if she never realized the mean things I did to her in the first place, then it might be best to not tell her now and make her feel bad. However, if she knows darn well that I was the culprit in some painful experiences for her, she might be expecting an apology, which I am willing to give.

I have considered a generic spoken or written apology such as: "I have realized over the years that I was sometimes very immature in high school. I remember feeling jealous of you at times because you were a poised person who was fun to be around. I'm sorry for the times that I may have acted rudely or hurt your feelings. By the way ... how is your darling baby daughter?" What do you think would be the best route?

GENTLE READER: That is, and Miss Manners is enormously relieved that you thought of it. Would-be confessors have a tendency to enjoy repeating their sins, slapping on an apology to deflect the consequences, and she was afraid of something like this:

"Remember when you got dis-invited to Gwendolyn's party? Well, I was the one who pointed out to her that you wouldn't fit in because you didn't have good clothes like the rest of us and your mother drove an old car -- and now I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't cause you too much pain."

In contrast, your version compliments the target, refrains from painting her as a victim by presuming she may not have noticed the slight and excuses her from having to protest by changing the subject. Miss Manners commends you. Hypothetically, of course.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When I entertain, most often I serve dinner family-style. What is the proper way to ask your guests if they would like additional helpings, whether it be main course or dessert?

I feel awkward asking if they "would like more." That sounds as though I have watched what they have already eaten. My friends and I have discussed this many times and have yet to come up with an acceptable answer.

GENTLE READER: The word "more" has no place at the dinner table. Miss Manners assures you that omitting it from both offers and requests ("May I please have some creamed potatoes?" or "Would you like some creamed potatoes?" rather than "some more creamed potatoes" or, for that matter, "even more creamed potatoes") improves the atmosphere without affecting the food delivery system.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Here is a problem I enjoy having. What is the polite response to being told that my girlfriend is beautiful?

"Thank you" seems presumptuous and sexist, since I had nothing to do with it. "I agree" sounds smug and ungrateful. I am at a loss.

GENTLE READER: "She has a beautiful character and a beautiful mind." If you say this in a dreamy voice, it will not only flummox the commenter, but, Miss Manners promises, enhance your private life.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I seem to have a penchant for noticing clothing tags that have been inadvertently left out while dressing. (As opposed to those tags that are strategically sewn on to best allow the wearer to become a free billboard for the designer.)

This has become a point of some contention between me and my teenage daughter. She thinks it's inappropriate (not to mention embarrassing, but then isn't that my job?) for me to point out to someone that their tag is out. I've even been known to gently tuck it in if it's at the collar of a woman of a similar age to mine.

I think I'm doing a service, my daughter thinks it's none of my business. I remember one particular time when I was at arguably one of the best restaurants in the country, and in walked a beautifully dressed woman and man, with the tag on the woman's dress sticking out for all the world to see. As we all waited for our tables I gently made my way over and subtly told her of the grooming error. I can assure you she was grateful.

Mercifully, my daughter was not with me at the time. I do ignore far more than I point out -- I'm not a stalker.

GENTLE READER: It is nice to be socially concerned, and Miss Manners supposes it is also a good idea to have a specialty. But she worries about those gentle tucks, which seem to allow for the possibility of your creeping up on unsuspecting ladies and thrusting an icy hand down their backs.

The rule about such corrections -- and Miss Manners can think of worse clothing errors of which the wearers would be grateful to be informed in time to salvage their appearance -- is that they must be made in confidence and that the problem must be easily fixable on the spot. If you can manage to be really discreet, no one else need know about it -- neither the tag-wearer's escort nor your daughter.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: In these increasingly etiquette-free times, I have stumbled on what appears to me to be a new and slightly unsettling expression of etiquette. I am referring to the strange phenomenon wherein a driver pulls a harebrained (and often dangerous or even illegal) maneuver -- cutting me off, running a red light in front of me, or such -- then smiles and waves thanks, as if permission to pull the maneuver had actually been requested and granted, when in fact neither is the case.

I am not referring to a similar situation, where the other driver musters up a shrug and grin of apology, which I can accept. I am speaking of a cheerful and guilt-free offer of gratitude.

I realize it is churlish of me to find fault in anyone showing the good manners to thank me, but I am afraid the feeling this inspires in me is closer to road rage than warm and fuzzy. I would like your comments on this phenomenon, and what, if anything, I can do with my unseemly feelings.

GENTLE READER: Drive off with them. Or drive them off. The unseemly feelings, that is.

You make an interesting observation. Miss Manners had noticed that look without considering how it implies complicity on the part of the innocent. But while she is always pleased to have the sights along the roads pointed out to her, she does not advise detouring off the path of politeness.

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