I'll go to the stables myself.

It will save time." In less than a quarter of an hour, Dorian Gray was galloping down the long avenue as hard as he could go.

The trees seemed to sweep past him in spectral procession, and wild shadows to fling themselves across his path.

Once the mare swerved at a white gate-post and nearly threw him.
He lashed her across the neck with his crop.

She cleft the dusky air like an arrow.