"go on," amory urged eagerly. they were striding toward the woods, burne's nervous, enthusiastic voice warming to his subject."i used to come out here alone at night, oh, three months ago, and i always stopped at that cross-road we just passed. there were the woods looming up ahead, just as they do now, there were dogs howling and the shadows and no human sound. of course, i peopled the woods with everything ghastly, just like you do; don't you?"
"i do," amory admitted."well, i began analyzing it--my imagination persisted in sticking horrors into the dark--so i stuck my imagination into the dark instead, and let it look out at me--i let it play stray dog or escaped convict or ghost, and then saw myself coming along the road. that made it all right--as it always makes everything all right to project yourself completely into another's place. i knew that if i were the dog or the convict or the ghost i wouldn't be a menace to burne holiday any more than he was a menace to me. then i thought of my watch. i'd better go back and leave it and then essay the woods. no; i decided, it's better on the whole that i should lose a watch than that i should turn back--and i did go into them--not only followed the road through them, but walked into them until i wasn't frightened any more--did it until one night i sat down and dozed off in there; then i knew i was through being afraid of the dark."