Lisa Kennerley writes very successful plays and some pretty horrible poetry. After a visitation from the muse she had once written a very triste verse called ""Aging Virgin"" but now she recognizes herself as a ""woman who had let life pass her by"". Not that all men overlook her-- there's Paul, married and divorced more than once; Lee Farquhar, with a mother; and Rex Sinclair, old friend and fixture,-and dinners every week with each, presents at Christmas and corsages at Easter. Finally Lisa decides to marry Lee and, just in time, identifies the man she really loves.... It's clean, it's pure, but how come it doesn't float?