Fix typos

src/epub/text/the-unknown-quantity.xhtml

@@ -39,7 +39,7 @@
 			<p>“Easy enough,” said Dan, in a cloud of smoke. “I suppose I could give the city a park, or endow an asparagus bed in a hospital. But I don’t want Paul to get away with the proceeds of the gold brick we sold Peter. It’s the bread shorts I want to cover, Ken.”</p>
 			<p>The thin fingers of Kenwitz moved rapidly.</p>
 			<p>“Do you know how much money it would take to pay back the losses of consumers during that corner in flour?” he asked.</p>
-			<p>“I do not.” said Dan, stoutly. “My lawyer tells me that I have two millions.”</p>
+			<p>“I do not,” said Dan, stoutly. “My lawyer tells me that I have two millions.”</p>
 			<p>“If you had a hundred millions,” said Kenwitz, vehemently, “you couldn’t repair a thousandth part of the damage that has been done. You cannot conceive of the accumulated evils produced by misapplied wealth. Each penny that was wrung from the lean purses of the poor reacted a thousandfold to their harm. You do not understand. You do not see how hopeless is your desire to make restitution. Not in a single instance can it be done.”</p>
 			<p>“Back up, philosopher!” said Dan. “The penny has no sorrow that the dollar cannot heal.”</p>
 			<p>“Not in one instance,” repeated Kenwitz. “I will give you one, and let us see. Thomas Boyne had a little bakery over there in Varick Street. He sold bread to the poorest people. When the price of flour went up he had to raise the price of bread. His customers were too poor to pay it, Boyne’s business failed and he lost his $1,000 capital⁠—all he had in the world.”</p>