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[Whirlygigs] Add nbsp around ampersands

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vr8ce 2019-11-09 23:24:10 -06:00
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src/epub/text/girl.xhtml
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
<section id="girl" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
<h2 epub:type="title">“Girl”</h2>
<p>In gilt letters on the ground glass of the door of room <abbr>No.</abbr> 962 were the words: “Robbins &amp; Hartley, Brokers.” The clerks had gone. It was past five, and with the solid tramp of a drove of prize Percherons, scrub-women were invading the cloud-capped twenty-story office building. A puff of red-hot air flavoured with lemon peelings, soft-coal smoke and train oil came in through the half-open windows.</p>
<p>In gilt letters on the ground glass of the door of room <abbr>No.</abbr> 962 were the words: “Robbins &amp; Hartley, Brokers.” The clerks had gone. It was past five, and with the solid tramp of a drove of prize Percherons, scrub-women were invading the cloud-capped twenty-story office building. A puff of red-hot air flavoured with lemon peelings, soft-coal smoke and train oil came in through the half-open windows.</p>
<p>Robbins, fifty, something of an overweight beau, and addicted to first nights and hotel palm-rooms, pretended to be envious of his partner’s commuter’s joys.</p>
<p>“Going to be something doing in the humidity line tonight,” he said. “You out-of-town chaps will be the people, with your katydids and moonlight and long drinks and things out on the front porch.”</p>
<p>Hartley, twenty-nine, serious, thin, good-looking, nervous, sighed and frowned a little.</p>

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src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml
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<p>Truly Bob Tidball was never to “hit the breeze” again. The deadly .45 of the false friend cracked and filled the gorge with a roar that the walls hurled back with indignant echoes. And Bolivar, unconscious accomplice, swiftly bore away the last of the holders-up of the “Sunset Express,” not put to the stress of “carrying double.”</p>
<p>But as “Shark” Dodson galloped away the woods seemed to fade from his view; the revolver in his right hand turned to the curved arm of a mahogany chair; his saddle was strangely upholstered, and he opened his eyes and saw his feet, not in stirrups, but resting quietly on the edge of a quartered-oak desk.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I am telling you that Dodson, of the firm of Dodson &amp; Decker, Wall Street brokers, opened his eyes. Peabody, the confidential clerk, was standing by his chair, hesitating to speak. There was a confused hum of wheels below, and the sedative buzz of an electric fan.</p>
<p>I am telling you that Dodson, of the firm of Dodson &amp; Decker, Wall Street brokers, opened his eyes. Peabody, the confidential clerk, was standing by his chair, hesitating to speak. There was a confused hum of wheels below, and the sedative buzz of an electric fan.</p>
<p>“Ahem! Peabody,” said Dodson, blinking. “I must have fallen asleep. I had a most remarkable dream. What is it, Peabody?”</p>
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Williams, sir, of Tracy &amp; Williams, is outside. He has come to settle his deal in <span epub:type="z3998:roman">X</span>. Y. Z. The market caught him short, sir, if you remember.”</p>
<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Williams, sir, of Tracy &amp; Williams, is outside. He has come to settle his deal in <span epub:type="z3998:roman">X</span>. Y. Z. The market caught him short, sir, if you remember.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I remember. What is <span epub:type="z3998:roman">X</span>. Y. Z. quoted at today, Peabody?”</p>
<p>“One eighty-five, sir.”</p>
<p>“Then that’s his price.”</p>