Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMjcuMjM0IC0gMDEtMDYtMjAyNCAyMzoxMToxMiAtIDUyMTIwODI0MQ==
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