hɪz ˈmænə wəz ˈnɒt ɪˈfjuːsɪv || ɪt ˈseldəm ˈwɒz | bət i wəz ˈɡlæd aɪ ˈθɪŋk | tə ˈsiː mi || wɪð ˈhɑːdli ə ˈwɜːd ˈspəʊkən | bət wɪð ə ˈkaɪndli ˈaɪ | hi ˈweɪv mi tu ən ˈɑːmʧeə | ˈθruː əˈkrɒs ɪz ˈkeɪs əv sɪˈɡɑːz | ən ˈɪndɪkeɪtɪd ə ˈspɪrɪk ˈkeɪs | ən ə ˈɡæsəʤiːn | ɪn ðə ˈkɔːnə || ˈðen i ˈstʊb bɪˈfɔː ðə ˈfaɪə | ən ˈlʊk mi ˈəʊvər | ɪn ɪz ˈsɪŋɡjələr ˈɪntrəˈspektɪv ˈfæʃn̩
ˈwedlɒk ˈsuːts ju hi rɪˈmɑːkt || aɪ ˈθɪŋk | ˈwɒtsn̩ | ðəʧuv ˈpʊt ˈɒn ˈsevn̩ ən ə ˈhɑːf ˈpaʊnz | ˈsɪns aɪ ˈsɔː ju
ˈsevn̩ aɪ ˈɑːnsəd
ɪnˈdiːd | aɪ ʃəd ə ˈθɔːt ə ˈlɪtl̩ ˈmɔː || ˈʤʌst ə ˈtraɪfl̩ ˈmɔːr aɪ ˈfænsi ˈwɒtsn̩ || ən ɪm ˈpræktɪs əˈɡen aɪ əbˈzɜːv || ju ˈdɪdn̩ ˈtel mi | ðəʧu ɪnˈtendɪd tə ˈɡəʊ ɪntə ˈhɑːnɪs
ðen ˈhaʊ ʤu ˈnəʊ
aɪ ˈsiː ɪt || aɪ dɪˈʤuːs ɪt || ˈhaʊ du aɪ ˈnəʊ | ðəʧuv biːŋ ˈɡetɪŋ jəˈself ˈveri ˈwet ˈleɪtli | ən ðəʧu hæv ə ˈməʊs ˈklʌmzi əŋ ˈkeələs ˈsɜːvŋ̩k ˈɡɜːl
maɪ ˈdɪə ˈhəʊmz ˈsed ˈaɪ | ðɪs ɪz ˈtuː ˈmʌʧ || jud ˈsɜːtn̩li əv ˈbiːm ˈbɜːnd | həʤu ˈlɪvd ə ˈfjuː ˈsenʧriz əˈɡəʊ || ɪts ˈtruː ðət aɪ ˈhæd ə ˈkʌntri ˈwɔːk | ɒn ˈθɜːzdeɪ | əŋ ˈkeɪm ˈhəʊm | ɪn ə ˈdredfl̩ ˈmes | bət ˈæz aɪv ˈʧeɪnʤ maɪ ˈkləʊz | aɪ ˈkɑːnt ɪˈmæʤən | ˈhaʊ ju dɪˈʤuːs ɪt || ˈæz tə ˈmeəri ˈʤeɪn | ʃiz ɪŋˈkɒrɪʤəbl̩ | əm maɪ ˈwaɪf əz ˈɡɪvn̩ ə ˈnəʊtɪs | bət ˈðeər əˈɡen | aɪ ˈfeɪl tə ˈsiː | ˈhaʊ ju ˈwɜːk ɪt ˈaʊt
hi ˈʧʌkl̩d tu ɪmˈself | ən ˈrʌbd ɪz ˈlɒŋ ˈnɜːvəs ˈhænz təˈɡeðə
Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes. “Reproduced from the original publication in The Strand Magazine with the classic illustrations by Sidney Paget.” Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books, [after 1954]. Internet Archive version of a copy donated by Friends of the San Francisco Library. http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pagets/1.html
His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.
“Wedlock suits you,” he remarked. “I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you.”
“Seven!” I answered.
“Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness.”
“Then, how do you know?”
“I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?”
“My dear Holmes,” said I, “this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out.”