'Would you like some letters of introduction before you go?' she said.
'What for?'
'It is evident that unless your soul is dead to all the finer feelings, you will seek to assuage your sorrow by shooting grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains. I thought a few letters to my friends in New York might be useful to you.'
'I'm sure that's very considerate of you, but I fancy it's scarcely the proper season. I was thinking of a week in Paris.'
'Then pray send me a dozen pairs of black suède gloves,' she retorted coolly. 'Sixes.'
'Is that your last word?' he asked lightly.
'Yes, why?'
'I thought you might mean six and a half.'
He lifted his hat and was gone.