DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have just discovered that I have been behaving outrageously for most of my adult life, and I am as mortified as anyone with decent self-esteem could possibly be under the circumstances.

I have always eaten the roll poised on the small plate on the right side of my dinner plate, usually behind or a snudge to the right or left of my wine glass(es). At dinner last night, I was informed by my right-hand neighbor that I was buttering her bread.

I hoped to make restitution by reaching for what I had thought was my husband's roll (he was on my left), only to discover that he had already torn off and devoured a large chunk of it, making it a less-than-appetizing substitute for my dinner-mate on the right. The quandary circled clockwise around the table until a pristine roll was discovered three places to my right and was passed along to my now-starving neighbor. I will be terrified of bread for the rest of my life.

Am I (and everyone from 7 o'clock through 3 o'clock) the only person in the universe who just never knew? Does it signify that this happened in Europe and not in America? Please set me straight. It's not that I don't believe that I was wrong but, after so many years of living this lie, a second opinion from an impeccable source will reinforce the lesson.

GENTLE READER: The second opinion is that you should stop stealing bread from the grasp of the hungry. This is as shady a practice in America as in Europe, and the attempt to make your husband look greedy for the same offense did not escape Miss Manners' notice.

When there are auxiliary individual food plates, such as for bread or salad, yours are on your left. Your water and wine glasses are on your right. Miss Manners hopes that you are sincerely reformed now, and are not harboring the notion that the distinction only demonstrates how silly etiquette is. It is no more ridiculous -- or less necessary -- than rules about which side of the street to drive on.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: "Excuse me!" exclaimed the stranger in a tone so innocent and friendly that I looked at him in acknowledgement before I could think better of it. (After all, he might just be asking for directions.)

"My wife is having a baby right this minute and I need to get to the hospital. But I've just been mugged..."

Requests for money preceded by elaborate backstories are annoying and my eventual response is always the same, but I still feel bad about cutting off the speaker before he or she has actually asked for a handout. Is there an acceptable way to terminate these conversations as soon as their objective becomes clear?

GENTLE READER: You need only say, "Sorry, I can't help" and move on, saving the speaker the necessity of making a full-length pitch in vain. Miss Manners is even sorrier about the necessity of concluding that someone in apparent distress must necessarily be a con artist.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have recently moved to the West Coast, and a question that frequently arises is, "Where are you from?" People sometimes recognize the name of the small East Coast town, and respond with some variation of, "You must be rich!"

I find that being labeled a rich person (which, sadly, I am not) makes me feel very awkward about how to continue the conversation. It doesn't really seem a compliment, so "Thank you" seems inappropriate.

A protestation of "No, no!" even with a laugh, leads to a steadily more undignified wrangling about how much money I must have, how much houses cost in the town, etc. I have tried to answer simply with the state, but most people press for the specific town, saying that they're familiar with the state's geography. A raised eyebrow or an "I beg your pardon" makes me feel as though I am acting the part of a rich snob. What is the proper response to such a verbalized presumption?

GENTLE READER: "I would be, if I had a nickel for all you folks out here who believe that."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I recently returned from a wedding that was wonderful in all respects except one: The outside temperature was nearly 100 degrees and there was no air conditioning in the church, which was filled to capacity. All in attendance were suffering from the heat -- especially the men, who were dressed in suits.

What is a gentleman permitted to do in such circumstances? I was tempted to take off my jacket, undo my tie and roll up my sleeves, yet I felt that such an appearance was not appropriate for a wedding. On the other hand, it seemed that perspiring through my jacket also did not befit the occasion. In the end, I settled for only removing my jacket. Yet this alone did little to abate my perspiration. What would Miss Manners suggest I do in a similar situation?

GENTLE READER: Suffer.

It hurts Miss Manners to say this, you may be comforted to hear. Well, probably not. But taking off your jacket didn't help, either. And in a packed, 100-degree church, even removing your shirt would not have made you stop perspiring, although it might have helped to clear the church.

Marriage ceremonies do not last forever. (Neither do marriages, but that is another story.) If you were in dire straights, you could have slipped out and explained later that you were feeling faint. But the polite thing to do would be to sit there and melt, hoping for a cold drink at the reception.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My 17-year-old daughter, Kaitlin, and three friends were quietly studying in the coffee shop of a large chain bookstore when Kaitlin began to cough. She was excusing herself to get a drink of water when a woman seated at the next table began loudly making an ugly scene, saying that Kaitlin had no right to be there since she was obviously ill and was exposing all of the other customers to her illness.

Kaitlin was extremely embarrassed. She walked over to the woman and, in a voice just loud enough to be heard by the other patrons, calmly said, "I appreciate your concern for my health and I'm sure these other customers also appreciate your concern for their health. However, there is no need to worry because I'm not sick, I just have allergies." Kaitlin then politely excused herself and went to the ladies room, where she burst into tears.

When she was able to regain her composure, she gathered her schoolbooks, excused herself to her friends, and left the bookstore with as much dignity as she could muster. She was quite shaken up and asked me how she should have handled the situation. I told her that I would ask Miss Manners, who would surely know.

GENTLE READER: Yes, but you have an expert closer at hand. Etiquette does not require accepting humiliation, and your daughter defended herself in a polite and dignified manner, of which you should be proud. The only lesson Miss Manners would have her learn is not to allow the rude to trifle with her emotions.

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