Out.

Sisley, Small Meadow, 1881

These downland woods are queer, aren’t they? This was no thicker than the one above us now, but it stretched as far as we could see either way, in a dead straight line. I don’t like straight lines: men make them. And sure enough, we found a road beside this wood. It was a very lonely, empty road, but all the same, I didn’t want to hang about there, so we went straight through the wood and out the other side. 

Captain Holly, from Watership Down