THE HANDSOME LATIN put his hand on the speeding plane’s door. He would jump, he threatened, he would not go on living, if she persisted in being so heartless.
“No, that’s a shade too melodramatic,” thought Vicki. She was sitting cross-legged under an oak on the wooded hill back of their house. She fitted her spine more comfortably against the tree trunk and started to revise her daydream.
The handsome Latin flagged her as she cautiously made her way down the aisle of the swaying plane. But Vicki did not like the handsome Latin very much, after all. Very well— A bell rang faintly, continuously. Another passenger was summoning her. With a polite nod to the disappointed young man, she moved farther down the aisle. There sat a paunchy middle-aged man, his lap full of photographs. He studied
