After 15 years as a nun--who joined the order of the Holy Cross in the 1950s wanting ""to make the world a better place""--Shirley Dyckes found giving up her vows nothing to fuss about. Here she seems a thoroughly secular soul; she celebrated her laicization with a champagne lunch--and a trip to Europe. There followed a swirl of dates with the eligible men of Washington, D.C., bemuse she knew that ""I was ready for the friendship, love, and affection of a man."" Worldly, yes, but there were limits and when a friend invited her to a bisexual and gay party: ""I was almost sick! I couldn't even speak! I got up from my chair and went into the bathroom where I poured myself a glass of water."" Her next beau took her to Saigon where, in the early 1970s, she observed: ""Yes, the Orient was different."" Ah, but then. . . love! In the person of then FBI Chief Clarence Kelley, 22 years her senior but possessed of ""the broadest shoulders I had ever seen."" And he was the first man she knew who toted a gun! Immensely satisfied with her new life, Shirley Dyckes Kelley comes across here as one of those fortunate, amiable souls for whom things just naturally turn out right. Lucky for her--but why write a book about it? And one where the gossip quotient, even about I. Edgar, is woefully low.