escaped from a peculiarly unbearable kind of bondage. But are you? You love me — that’s a bondage.”

“Who said or wrote that ‘the prison unto which we doom ourselves no prison is’?” asked Valancy dreamily, clinging to his arm as they climbed up the rock steps.

“Ah, now you have it,” said Barney. “That’s all the freedom we can hope for — the freedom to choose our prison. But, Moonlight,” — he stopped at the door of the Blue Castle and looked about him — at the glorious lake, the great, shadowy woods, the bonfires, the twinkling lights — ”Moonlight, I’m glad to be home again. When I came down through the woods and saw my home lights — mine — gleaming out under the old pines —