Move interruption em-dashes inside quotations

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@@ -53,7 +53,7 @@
 			<p>“I beg your pardon, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Gaines,” said Adkins.</p>
 			<p>The man who believed New York to be the finest summer resort in the world opened his eyes and kicked over the mucilage bottle on his desk.</p>
 			<p>“I⁠—I believe I was asleep,” he said.</p>
-			<p>“It’s the heat,” said Adkins. “It’s something awful in the city these”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“It’s the heat,” said Adkins. “It’s something awful in the city these⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Nonsense!” said the other. “The city beats the country ten to one in summer. Fools go out tramping in muddy brooks and wear themselves out trying to catch little fish as long as your finger. Stay in town and keep comfortable⁠—that’s my idea.”</p>
 			<p>“Some letters just came,” said Adkins. “I thought you might like to glance at them before you go.”</p>
 			<p>Let us look over his shoulder and read just a few lines of one of them:</p>

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@@ -32,11 +32,11 @@
 			<p>“I would be simply doing my duty as a citizen and gentleman,” he said, severely, “if I could assist the law in laying hold of one of its offenders.”</p>
 			<p>Murray hurried back to the bench in the park. He folded his arms and shrank within his clothes to his ghostlike presentment.</p>
 			<p>Ten minutes afterward the Captain arrived at the rendezvous, windy and thunderous as a dog-day in Kansas. His collar had been torn away; his straw hat had been twisted and battered; his shirt with ox-blood stripes split to the waist. And from head to knee he was drenched with some vile and ignoble greasy fluid that loudly proclaimed to the nose its component leaven of garlic and kitchen stuff.</p>
-			<p>“For Heaven’s sake, Captain,” sniffed Murray, “I doubt that I would have waited for you if I had suspected you were so desperate as to resort to swill barrels. I”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“For Heaven’s sake, Captain,” sniffed Murray, “I doubt that I would have waited for you if I had suspected you were so desperate as to resort to swill barrels. I⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Cheese it,” said the Captain, harshly. “I’m not hogging it yet. It’s all on the outside. I went around on Essex and proposed marriage to that Catrina that’s got the fruit shop there. Now, that business could be built up. She’s a peach as far as a Dago could be. I thought I had that señoreena mashed sure last week. But look what she done to me! I guess I got too fresh. Well there’s another scheme queered.”</p>
 			<p>“You don’t mean to say,” said Murray, with infinite contempt, “that you would have married that woman to help yourself out of your disgraceful troubles!”</p>
 			<p>“Me?” said the Captain. “I’d marry the Empress of China for one bowl of chop suey. I’d commit murder for a plate of beef stew. I’d steal a wafer from a waif. I’d be a Mormon for a bowl of chowder.”</p>
-			<p>“I think,” said Murray, resting his head on his hands, “that I would play Judas for the price of one drink of whiskey. For thirty pieces of silver I would”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“I think,” said Murray, resting his head on his hands, “that I would play Judas for the price of one drink of whiskey. For thirty pieces of silver I would⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, come now!” exclaimed the Captain in dismay. “You wouldn’t do that, Murray! I always thought that Kike’s squeal on his boss was about the lowest-down play that ever happened. A man that gives his friend away is worse than a pirate.”</p>
 			<p>Through the park stepped a large man scanning the benches where the electric light fell.</p>
 			<p>“Is that you, Mac?” he said, halting before the derelicts. His diamond stickpin dazzled. His diamond-studded fob chain assisted. He was big and smooth and well fed. “Yes, I see it’s you,” he continued. “They told me at Mike’s that I might find you over here. Let me see you a few minutes, Mac.”</p>
@@ -45,7 +45,7 @@
 			<p>“He was my inspector,” said the Captain.</p>
 			<p>“O’Shea wants the job,” went on Finnegan. “He must have it. It’s for the good of the organization. Pickering must go under. Your testimony will do it. He was your ‘man higher up’ when you were on the force. His share of the boodle passed through your hands. You must go on the stand and testify against him.”</p>
 			<p>“He was”⁠—began the Captain.</p>
-			<p>“Wait a minute,” said Finnegan. A bundle of yellowish stuff came out of his inside pocket. “Five hundred dollars in it for you. Two-fifty on the spot, and the rest”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Wait a minute,” said Finnegan. A bundle of yellowish stuff came out of his inside pocket. “Five hundred dollars in it for you. Two-fifty on the spot, and the rest⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“He was my friend, I say,” finished the Captain. “I’ll see you and the gang, and the city, and the party in the flames of Hades before I’ll take the stand against Dan Pickering. I’m down and out; but I’m no traitor to a man that’s been my friend.” The Captain’s voice rose and boomed like a split trombone. “Get out of this park, Charlie Finnegan, where us thieves and tramps and boozers are your betters; and take your dirty money with you.”</p>
 			<p>Finnegan drifted out by another walk. The Captain returned to his seat.</p>
 			<p>“I couldn’t avoid hearing,” said Murray, drearily. “I think you are the biggest fool I ever saw.”</p>
@@ -57,13 +57,13 @@
 			<p>At Ninth Street a tall man wearing an opera hat alighted from a Broadway car and turned his face westward. But he saw Murray, pounced upon him and dragged him under a street light. The Captain lumbered slowly to the corner, like a wounded bear, and waited, growling.</p>
 			<p>“Jerry!” cried the hatted one. “How fortunate! I was to begin a search for you tomorrow. The old gentleman has capitulated. You’re to be restored to favor. Congratulate you. Come to the office in the morning and get all the money you want. I’ve liberal instructions in that respect.”</p>
 			<p>“And the little matrimonial arrangement?” said Murray, with his head turned sidewise.</p>
-			<p>“Why.⁠—er⁠—well, of course, your uncle understands⁠—expects that the engagement between you and Miss Vanderhurst shall be”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Why.⁠—er⁠—well, of course, your uncle understands⁠—expects that the engagement between you and Miss Vanderhurst shall be⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Good night,” said Murray, moving away.</p>
-			<p>“You madman!” cried the other, catching his arm. “Would you give up two millions on account of”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“You madman!” cried the other, catching his arm. “Would you give up two millions on account of⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Did you ever see her nose, old man?” asked Murray, solemnly.</p>
-			<p>“But, listen to reason, Jerry. Miss Vanderhurst is an heiress, and”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“But, listen to reason, Jerry. Miss Vanderhurst is an heiress, and⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Did you ever see it?”</p>
-			<p>“Yes, I admit that her nose isn’t”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Yes, I admit that her nose isn’t⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Good night!” said Murray. “My friend is waiting for me. I am quoting him when I authorize you to report that there is ‘nothing doing.’ Good night.”</p>
 			<p>A wriggling line of waiting men extended from a door in Tenth Street far up Broadway, on the outer edge of the pavement. The Captain and Murray fell in at the tail of the quivering millipede.</p>
 			<p>“Twenty feet longer than it was last night,” said Murray, looking up at his measuring angle of Grace Church.</p>

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@@ -35,9 +35,9 @@
 			<p>Two street cars suddenly swooped in opposite directions upon the youngster. Morley dashed between them and pinned the infantile messenger by the neck, holding him in safety. Then from the corner of his street he sent him on his way, swindled, happy, and sticky with vile, cheap candy from the Italian’s fruit stand.</p>
 			<p>Morley went to a restaurant and ordered a sirloin and a pint of inexpensive Château Breuille. He laughed noiselessly, but so genuinely that the waiter ventured to premise that good news had come his way.</p>
 			<p>“Why, no,” said Morley, who seldom held conversation with anyone. “It is not that. It is something else that amuses me. Do you know what three divisions of people are easiest to overreach in transactions of all kinds?”</p>
-			<p>“Sure,” said the waiter, calculating the size of the tip promised by the careful knot of Morley’s tie; “there’s the buyers from the dry goods stores in the South during August, and honeymooners from Staten Island, and”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Sure,” said the waiter, calculating the size of the tip promised by the careful knot of Morley’s tie; “there’s the buyers from the dry goods stores in the South during August, and honeymooners from Staten Island, and⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Wrong!” said Morley, chuckling happily. “The answer is just⁠—men, women and children. The world⁠—well, say New York and as far as summer boarders can swim out from Long Island⁠—is full of greenhorns. Two minutes longer on the broiler would have made this steak fit to be eaten by a gentleman, Francois.”</p>
-			<p>“If yez t’inks it’s on de bum,” said the waiter, “Oi’ll”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“If yez t’inks it’s on de bum,” said the waiter, “Oi’ll⁠—”</p>
 			<p>Morley lifted his hand in protest⁠—slightly martyred protest.</p>
 			<p>“It will do,” he said, magnanimously. “And now, green Chartreuse, frappe and a demitasse.”</p>
 			<p>Morley went out leisurely and stood on a corner where two tradeful arteries of the city cross. With a solitary dime in his pocket, he stood on the curb watching with confident, cynical, smiling eyes the tides of people that flowed past him. Into that stream he must cast his net and draw fish for his further sustenance and need. Good Izaak Walton had not the half of his self-reliance and bait-lore.</p>
@@ -49,17 +49,17 @@
 			<p>An old man with an ill-fitting suit, a straggling gray beard and a corpulent umbrella hopped from the conglomeration of cabs and street cars to the sidewalk at Morley’s side.</p>
 			<p>“Stranger,” said he, “excuse me for troubling you, but do you know anybody in this here town named Solomon Smothers? He’s my son, and I’ve come down from Ellenville to visit him. Be darned if I know what I done with his street and number.”</p>
 			<p>“I do not, sir,” said Morley, half closing his eyes to veil the joy in them. “You had better apply to the police.”</p>
-			<p>“The police!” said the old man. “I ain’t done nothin’ to call in the police about. I just come down to see Ben. He lives in a five-story house, he writes me. If you know anybody by that name and could”⁠—</p>
-			<p>“I told you I did not,” said Morley, coldly. “I know no one by the name of Smithers, and I advise you to”⁠—</p>
-			<p>“Smothers not Smithers,” interrupted the old man hopefully. “A heavyset man, sandy complected, about twenty-nine, two front teeth out, about five foot”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“The police!” said the old man. “I ain’t done nothin’ to call in the police about. I just come down to see Ben. He lives in a five-story house, he writes me. If you know anybody by that name and could⁠—”</p>
+			<p>“I told you I did not,” said Morley, coldly. “I know no one by the name of Smithers, and I advise you to⁠—”</p>
+			<p>“Smothers not Smithers,” interrupted the old man hopefully. “A heavyset man, sandy complected, about twenty-nine, two front teeth out, about five foot⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Oh, ‘Smothers!’ ” exclaimed Morley. “Sol Smothers? Why, he lives in the next house to me. I thought you said ‘Smithers.’ ”</p>
 			<p>Morley looked at his watch. You must have a watch. You can do it for a dollar. Better go hungry than forego a gunmetal or the ninety-eight-cent one that the railroads⁠—according to these watchmakers⁠—are run by.</p>
-			<p>“The Bishop of Long Island,” said Morley, “was to meet me here at 8 to dine with me at the Kingfishers’ Club. But I can’t leave the father of my friend Sol Smothers alone on the street. By <abbr>St.</abbr> Swithin, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smothers, we Wall street men have to work! Tired is no name for it! I was about to step across to the other corner and have a glass of ginger ale with a dash of sherry when you approached me. You must let me take you to Sol’s house, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smothers. But, before we take the car I hope you will join me in”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“The Bishop of Long Island,” said Morley, “was to meet me here at 8 to dine with me at the Kingfishers’ Club. But I can’t leave the father of my friend Sol Smothers alone on the street. By <abbr>St.</abbr> Swithin, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smothers, we Wall street men have to work! Tired is no name for it! I was about to step across to the other corner and have a glass of ginger ale with a dash of sherry when you approached me. You must let me take you to Sol’s house, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Smothers. But, before we take the car I hope you will join me in⁠—”</p>
 			<p>An hour later Morley seated himself on the end of a quiet bench in Madison Square, with a twenty-five-cent cigar between his lips and $140 in deeply creased bills in his inside pocket. Content, lighthearted, ironical, keenly philosophic, he watched the moon drifting in and out amidst a maze of flying clouds. An old, ragged man with a low-bowed head sat at the other end of the bench.</p>
 			<p>Presently the old man stirred and looked at his bench companion. In Morley’s appearance he seemed to recognize something superior to the usual nightly occupants of the benches.</p>
-			<p>“Kind sir,” he whined, “if you could spare a dime or even a few pennies to one who”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Kind sir,” he whined, “if you could spare a dime or even a few pennies to one who⁠—”</p>
 			<p>Morley cut short his stereotyped appeal by throwing him a dollar.</p>
-			<p>“God bless you!” said the old man. “I’ve been trying to find work for”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“God bless you!” said the old man. “I’ve been trying to find work for⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Work!” echoed Morley with his ringing laugh. “You are a fool, my friend. The world is a rock to you, no doubt; but you must be an Aaron and smite it with your rod. Then things better than water will gush out of it for you. That is what the world is for. It gives to me whatever I want from it.”</p>
 			<p>“God has blessed you,” said the old man. “It is only work that I have known. And now I can get no more.”</p>
 			<p>“I must go home,” said Morley, rising and buttoning his coat. “I stopped here only for a smoke. I hope you may find work.”</p>

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@@ -78,7 +78,7 @@
 			<p>“Now, take your useless diamond and go, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Buyer,” she said.</p>
 			<p>“This was the other one⁠—the wedding ring,” said the Texan, holding the smooth gold band on the palm of his hand.</p>
 			<p>Miss Asher’s eyes blazed upon him in the half darkness.</p>
-			<p>“Was that what you meant?⁠—did you”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Was that what you meant?⁠—did you⁠—”</p>
 			<p>Somebody opened the door from inside the house.</p>
 			<p>“Good night,” said Platt. “I’ll see you at the store tomorrow.”</p>
 			<p>Miss Asher ran up to her room and shook the school teacher until she sat up in bed ready to scream “Fire!”</p>

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@@ -62,7 +62,7 @@
 			<p>The court officer took her inside and closed the door. I went up to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Fly-Cop and inquired about the case.</p>
 			<p>“A very sad one,” says he, laying the points of his manicured fingers together. “An utterly incorrigible girl. I am Special Terrestrial Officer the Reverend Jones. The case was assigned to me. The girl murdered her fiancé and committed suicide. She had no defense. My report to the court relates the facts in detail, all of which are substantiated by reliable witnesses. The wages of sin is death. Praise the Lord.”</p>
 			<p>The court officer opened the door and stepped out.</p>
-			<p>“Poor girl,” said Special Terrestrial Officer the Reverend Jones, with a tear in his eye. “It was one of the saddest cases that I ever met with. Of course she was”⁠—</p>
+			<p>“Poor girl,” said Special Terrestrial Officer the Reverend Jones, with a tear in his eye. “It was one of the saddest cases that I ever met with. Of course she was⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Discharged,” said the court officer. “Come here, Jonesy. First thing you know you’ll be switched to the potpie squad. How would you like to be on the missionary force in the South Sea Islands⁠—hey? Now, you quit making these false arrests, or you’ll be transferred⁠—see? The guilty party you’ve got to look for in this case is a red-haired, unshaven, untidy man, sitting by the window reading, in his stocking feet, while his children play in the streets. Get a move on you.”</p>
 			<p>Now, wasn’t that a silly dream?</p>
 		</section>

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@@ -71,7 +71,7 @@
 			<hr/>
 			<p>Just as the moon rose on Thursday evening the hermit was seized by the world-madness.</p>
 			<p>Up from the inn, fainter than the horns of elf-land, came now and then a few bars of music played by the casino band. The Hudson was broadened by the night into an illimitable sea⁠—those lights, dimly seen on its opposite shore, were not beacons for prosaic trolley-lines, but low-set stars millions of miles away. The waters in front of the inn were gay with fireflies⁠—or were they motor-boats, smelling of gasoline and oil? Once the hermit had known these things and had sported with Amaryllis in the shade of the red-and-white-striped awnings. But for ten years he had turned a heedless ear to these far-off echoes of a frivolous world. But to-night there was something wrong.</p>
-			<p>The casino band was playing a waltz⁠—a waltz. What a fool he had been to tear deliberately ten years of his life from the calendar of existence for one who had given him up for the false joys that wealth⁠—”<em>tum</em> ti <em>tum</em> ti <em>tum</em> ti”⁠—how did that waltz go? But those years had not been sacrificed⁠—had they not brought him the star and pearl of all the world, the youngest and beautifulest of⁠—</p>
+			<p>The casino band was playing a waltz⁠—a waltz. What a fool he had been to tear deliberately ten years of his life from the calendar of existence for one who had given him up for the false joys that wealth⁠—“<em>tum</em> ti <em>tum</em> ti <em>tum</em> ti”⁠—how did that waltz go? But those years had not been sacrificed⁠—had they not brought him the star and pearl of all the world, the youngest and beautifulest of⁠—</p>
 			<p>“But do <em>not</em> come on Thursday evening,” she had insisted. Perhaps by now she would be moving slowly and gracefully to the strains of that waltz, held closely by West-Pointers or city commuters, while he, who had read in her eyes things that had recompensed him for ten lost years of life, moped like some wild animal in its mountain den. Why should⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“Damn it,” said the hermit, suddenly, “I’ll do it!”</p>
 			<p>He threw down his Marcus Aurelius and threw off his gunny-sack toga. He dragged a dust-covered trunk from a corner of the cave, and with difficulty wrenched open its lid.</p>