From 329193183a2a481d46c6bbc41f0d0ce551919230 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Nick Corrado Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2023 23:27:32 -0400 Subject: [PATCH] Fix typo XYX -> XYZ. Cp. Gutenberg transcription https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1595/pg1595-images.html#chap14 --- src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml | 4 ++-- 1 file changed, 2 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) diff --git a/src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml b/src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml index 31034be..ee26880 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/the-roads-we-take.xhtml @@ -38,11 +38,11 @@

I am telling you that Dodson, of the firm of Dodson & 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.

“Ahem! Peabody,” said Dodson, blinking. “I must have fallen asleep. I had a most remarkable dream. What is it, Peabody?”

-

“Mr. Williams, sir, of Tracy & Williams, is outside. He has come to settle his deal in XYX. The market caught him short, sir, if you remember.”

+

“Mr. Williams, sir, of Tracy & Williams, is outside. He has come to settle his deal in XYZ. The market caught him short, sir, if you remember.”

“Yes, I remember. What is XYZ quoted at today, Peabody?”

“One eighty-five, sir.”

“Then that’s his price.”

-

“Excuse me,” said Peabody, rather nervously “for speaking of it, but I’ve been talking to Williams. He’s an old friend of yours, Mr. Dodson, and you practically have a corner in XYX. I thought you might⁠—that is, I thought you might not remember that he sold you the stock at 98. If he settles at the market price it will take every cent he has in the world and his home too to deliver the shares.”

+

“Excuse me,” said Peabody, rather nervously “for speaking of it, but I’ve been talking to Williams. He’s an old friend of yours, Mr. Dodson, and you practically have a corner in XYZ. I thought you might⁠—that is, I thought you might not remember that he sold you the stock at 98. If he settles at the market price it will take every cent he has in the world and his home too to deliver the shares.”

The expression on Dodson’s face changed in an instant to one of cold ferocity mingled with inexorable cupidity. The soul of the man showed itself for a moment like an evil face in the window of a reputable house.

“He will settle at one eighty-five,” said Dodson. “Bolivar cannot carry double.”