Let this be a lesson to you; and we'll say no more about it.

I'm an old man now, but I was young once.' Then Alice slid along the bench close to him, and put her hand on his arm: her fingers were pink through the holes in her woolly gloves, and said, 'I think you're very good to forgive us, and we are really very, very sorry.

But we wanted to be like the children in the books--only we never have the chances they have.

Everything they do turns out all right.

But we _are_ sorry, very, very.