Simon Cann

• To the right, a figure appeared.

Female. Slim. Five eight. Long blond hair, styled with a just-got-out-of-bed look, which may have been due to her just getting out of bed.

• I said the only thing I knew about jewelry in Rue de la Paix: There are no price tags. European legislation mandates that every item for sale has a visible price tag showing the full price, including any sales tax, but jewelry in Rue de la Paix has a special dispensation.

"Of course!" said Clementina, "It's art! You can't put a price on such beauty."

"And yet somehow the stores manage to find a price to charge you," I muttered, sparking Clementina's offense.

• "What do you think of this?" she asked, holding up a very delicate necklace. To me it looked silver, but I guessed it was platinum.

"Looks good," I said, not knowing what to say. As I've said, jewelry isn't my thing.

"Say more than that," said Clementina, clearly disappointed in my response.
I shrugged.

She exaggerated a shrug back.

I held out my hands, letting her see both sides. Then I pushed back my sleeves to show there was nothing around my wrists before I indicated my earlobes, each lacking any adornment. Finally, I tugged down my collar to show I wasn't wearing a necklace. "Do you see something missing? Something I don't display?"

She paused, letting the expression on her face fall before talking. "Oh God, I'm sorry!" she said, throwing her hands over her mouth. "Leathan, I am so, so, sooo sorry. Now you mention it, it's obvious: You're missing any sense of style. Oh, you poor thing. I am so, so sorry."

I should have been upset, but she managed to carry off the put-down with a certain aplomb.