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"What ineffable twaddle!" I cried, slapping the magazine down on the
table, "I never read such rubbish in my life."
"What is it?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
"Why, this article," I said, pointing at it with my egg spoon as I sat
down to my breakfast. "I see that you have read it since you have marked
it. I don't deny that it is smartly written. It irritates me though. It
is evidently the theory of some arm-chair lounger who evolves all these
neat little paradoxes in the seclusion of his own study. It is not
practical. I should like to see him clapped down in a third class
carriage on the Underground, and asked to give the trades of all his
fellow-travellers. I would lay a thousand to one against him."
"You would lose your money," Sherlock Holmes remarked calmly. "As for
the article I wrote it myself."
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