21/31 It's the simple truth, Ann, I can't. Even the thought of her liking other men--bothers me." December was fated to hold for him another startling anticlimax. It came one snowy morning when he had slept even later than usual, dreaming of an iridescent balloon that climbed higher and higher with Joan peeping radiantly over the edge until at the peal of the telephone bell it disappeared entirely. "Up already! And you danced half the night." "It's eleven o'clock," said Joan. |