Tweak semantics

src/epub/text/the-pint-flask.xhtml

@@ -12,7 +12,7 @@
 			<p>He looked about for a place to throw the bottle, but the back door was locked, and he tried unsuccessfully to raise the window that overlooked the alley. The colonel’s wife, wondering why he was so long in coming, opened the door and surprised him, so that scarcely thinking what he was doing he thrust the flask under his coat tail into his hip pocket.</p>
 			<p>“Why don’t you come on?” asked his wife. “Didn’t you find the letter?”</p>
 			<p>He couldn’t do anything but go with her. He should have produced the bottle right there, and explained the situation, but he neglected his opportunity. He went on down Main Street with his family, with the pint flask feeling as big as a keg in his pocket. He was afraid some of them would notice it bulging under his coat, so he lagged somewhat in the rear. When he entered his pew at church and sat down there was a sharp crack, and the odor of mean whisky began to work its way around the church. The colonel saw several people elevate their noses and look inquiringly around, and he turned as red as a beet. He heard a female voice in the pew behind him whisper loudly:</p>
-			<p>“Old Colonel <abbr epub:type="z3998:surname">J</abbr> is drunk again. They say he is hardly ever sober now, and some people say he beats his wife nearly every day.”</p>
+			<p>“Old Colonel J⁠⸺ is drunk again. They say he is hardly ever sober now, and some people say he beats his wife nearly every day.”</p>
 			<p>The colonel recognized the voice of one of the most notorious female gossipers in Houston. He turned around and glared at her. She then whispered a little louder:</p>
 			<p>“Look at him. He really looks dangerous. And to come to church that way, too!”</p>
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