A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.


The Works of A. Conan Doyle: The exploits of brigadier Gerard (ed. 1902)


A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.

A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.

A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.

A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.