"They don't apologize like that in New Jersey," she observed, with some resentment in her voice, and dabbed at her unbelievably blue eyes with a moist ball of handkerchief.
"I know they don't, honey." Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly.

"That's what I want you to help me teach my boys--to be real gentlemen.

They're pure gold, every one of them; but I can't deny they're pretty rough on the outside sometimes.

And I hope you will be--" "Oh, I know.

I understand perfectly.