valancy and barney turned under the mainland pines in the cool dusk of the september night for a farewell look at the blue castle. mistawis was drowned in sunset lilac light, incredibly delicate and elusive. nip and tuck were cawing lazily in the old pines. good luck and banjo were mewed and mewing in separate baskets in barney’s new, dark-green car en route to cousin georgiana’s. cousin georgiana was going to take care of them until barney and valancy came back. aunt wellington and cousin sarah and aunt alberta had also entreated the privilege of looking after them, but to cousin georgiana was it given. valancy was in tears.

“don’t cry, moonlight. we’ll be back next summer. and now we’re off for a real honeymoon.”

valancy smiled through her tears. she was so happy that her happiness terrified her. but, despite the delights before her—‘the glory that was greece and the grandeur that was rome’—lure of the ageless nile—glamour of the riviera—mosque and palace and minaret—she knew perfectly well that no spot or place or home in the world could ever possess the sorcery of her blue castle.

the end