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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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Unabashed
,
Burne
ran
his
hand
lovingly
across
the
spacious
foreheads
,
and
piling
up
the
pictures
put
them
back
in
his
desk
.
Walking
at
night
was
one
of
his
favorite
pursuits
,
and
one
night
he
persuaded
Amory
to
accompany
him
.
"
I
hate
the
dark
,
"
Amory
objected
.
"
I
did
n't
use
to
--
except
when
I
was
particularly
imaginative
,
but
now
,
I
really
do
--
I
'm
a
regular
fool
about
it
.
"
"
That
's
useless
,
you
know
.
"
"
Quite
possibly
.
"
"
We
'll
go
east
,
"
Burne
suggested
,
"
and
down
that
string
of
roads
through
the
woods
.
"
"
Does
n't
sound
very
appealing
to
me
,
"
admitted
Amory
reluctantly
,
"
but
let
's
go
.
"
They
set
off
at
a
good
gait
,
and
for
an
hour
swung
along
in
a
brisk
argument
until
the
lights
of
Princeton
were
luminous
white
blots
behind
them
.
"
Any
person
with
any
imagination
is
bound
to
be
afraid
,
"
said
Burne
earnestly
.
"
And
this
very
walking
at
night
is
one
of
the
things
I
was
afraid
about
.
I
'm
going
to
tell
you
why
I
can
walk
anywhere
now
and
not
be
afraid
.
"
"
Go
on
,
"
Amory
urged
eagerly
.
They
were
striding
toward
the
woods
,
Burne
's
nervous
,
enthusiastic
voice
warming
to
his
subject
.
