Remove language tags from phrase in M-W

src/epub/text/hostages-to-momus.xhtml

@@ -65,7 +65,7 @@
 				<p>When the goods came down from Atlanta, we hired a wagon, moved them up on the little mountain, and established camp. And then we laid for the colonel.</p>
 				<p>We caught him one morning about two miles out from Mountain Valley, on his way to look after some of his burnt umber farm land. He was an elegant old gentleman, as thin and tall as a trout rod, with frazzled shirt-cuffs and specs on a black string. We explained to him, brief and easy, what we wanted; and Caligula showed him, careless, the handle of his forty-five under his coat.</p>
 				<p>“What?” says Colonel Rockingham. “Bandits in Perry County, Georgia! I shall see that the board of immigration and public improvements hears of this!”</p>
-				<p>“Be so unfoolhardy as to climb into that buggy,” says Caligula, “by order of the board of perforation and public depravity. This is a business meeting, and we’re anxious to adjourn <span xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span>.”</p>
+				<p>“Be so unfoolhardy as to climb into that buggy,” says Caligula, “by order of the board of perforation and public depravity. This is a business meeting, and we’re anxious to adjourn sine qua non.”</p>
 				<p>We drove Colonel Rockingham over the mountain and up the side of it as far as the buggy could go. Then we tied the horse, and took our prisoner on foot up to the camp.</p>
 				<p>“Now, colonel,” I says to him, “we’re after the ransom, me and my partner; and no harm will come to you if the King of Mor⁠—if your friends send up the dust. In the meantime we are gentlemen the same as you. And if you give us your word not to try to escape, the freedom of the camp is yours.”</p>
 				<p>“I give you my word,” says the colonel.</p>

src/epub/text/the-octopus-marooned.xhtml

@@ -52,7 +52,7 @@
 			<p>“A lonesome man came along and stopped in front of the Blue Snake to scrape the mud off his boots.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘Pardner,’ says I, ‘what has happened? This morning there was hectic gaiety afoot; and now it seems more like one of them ruined cities of Tyre and Siphon where the lone lizard crawls on the walls of the main portcullis.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘The whole town,’ says the muddy man, ‘is up in Sperry’s wool warehouse listening to your side-kicker make a speech. He is some gravy on delivering himself of audible sounds relating to matters and conclusions,’ says the man.</p>
-			<p>“ ‘Well, I hope he’ll adjourn, <span xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span>, pretty soon,’ says I, ‘for trade languishes.’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘Well, I hope he’ll adjourn, sine qua non, pretty soon,’ says I, ‘for trade languishes.’</p>
 			<p>“Not a customer did we have that afternoon. At six o’clock two Mexicans brought Andy to the saloon lying across the back of a burro. We put him in bed while he still muttered and gesticulated with his hands and feet.</p>
 			<p>“Then I locked up the cash and went out to see what had happened. I met a man who told me all about it. Andy had made the finest two hour speech that had ever been heard in Texas, he said, or anywhere else in the world.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘What was it about?’ I asked.</p>

src/epub/text/the-things-the-play.xhtml

@@ -39,7 +39,7 @@
 			<p>Ramonti, with his still youthful face, his dark eyebrows, his short, pointed, foreign, brown beard, his distinguished head of gray hair, and his artist’s temperament⁠—revealed in his light, gay and sympathetic manner⁠—was a welcome tenant in the old house near Abingdon Square.</p>
 			<p>Helen lived on the floor above the store. The architecture of it was singular and quaint. The hall was large and almost square. Up one side of it, and then across the end of it ascended an open stairway to the floor above. This hall space she had furnished as a sitting room and office combined. There she kept her desk and wrote her business letters; and there she sat of evenings by a warm fire and a bright red light and sewed or read. Ramonti found the atmosphere so agreeable that he spent much time there, describing to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Barry the wonders of Paris, where he had studied with a particularly notorious and noisy fiddler.</p>
 			<p>Next comes lodger <abbr>No.</abbr> 2, a handsome, melancholy man in the early 40’s, with a brown, mysterious beard, and strangely pleading, haunting eyes. He, too, found the society of Helen a desirable thing. With the eyes of Romeo and Othello’s tongue, he charmed her with tales of distant climes and wooed her by respectful innuendo.</p>
-			<p>From the first Helen felt a marvelous and compelling thrill in the presence of this man. His voice somehow took her swiftly back to the days of her youth’s romance. This feeling grew, and she gave way to it, and it led her to an instinctive belief that he had been a factor in that romance. And then with a woman’s reasoning (oh, yes, they do, sometimes) she leaped over common syllogisms and theory, and logic, and was sure that her husband had come back to her. For she saw in his eyes love, which no woman can mistake, and a thousand tons of regret and remorse, which aroused pity, which is perilously near to love requited, which is the <span xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span> in the house that Jack built.</p>
+			<p>From the first Helen felt a marvelous and compelling thrill in the presence of this man. His voice somehow took her swiftly back to the days of her youth’s romance. This feeling grew, and she gave way to it, and it led her to an instinctive belief that he had been a factor in that romance. And then with a woman’s reasoning (oh, yes, they do, sometimes) she leaped over common syllogisms and theory, and logic, and was sure that her husband had come back to her. For she saw in his eyes love, which no woman can mistake, and a thousand tons of regret and remorse, which aroused pity, which is perilously near to love requited, which is the sine qua non in the house that Jack built.</p>
 			<p>But she made no sign. A husband who steps around the corner for twenty years and then drops in again should not expect to find his slippers laid out too conveniently near nor a match ready lighted for his cigar. There must be expiation, explanation, and possibly execration. A little purgatory, and then, maybe, if he were properly humble, he might be trusted with a harp and crown. And so she made no sign that she knew or suspected.</p>
 			<p>And my friend, the reporter, could see nothing funny in this! Sent out on an assignment to write up a roaring, hilarious, brilliant joshing story of⁠—but I will not knock a brother⁠—let us go on with the story.</p>
 			<p>One evening Ramonti stopped in Helen’s hall-office-reception-room and told his love with the tenderness and ardor of the enraptured artist. His words were a bright flame of the divine fire that glows in the heart of a man who is a dreamer and doer combined.</p>