[StrictlyBus] Add semantics, move punctuation inside italics

src/epub/text/proof-of-the-pudding.xhtml

@@ -81,7 +81,7 @@
 			<p>“Oh, never!” exclaimed the editor, shaking his head. “That would be inexcusably cruel. I could not consent to have <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Dawe’s feelings played upon in such a manner.”</p>
 			<p>“Brace up,” said the writer. “I guess I think as much of her as you do. It’s for her benefit as well as mine. I’ve got to get a market for my stories in some way. It won’t hurt Louise. She’s healthy and sound. Her heart goes as strong as a ninety-eight-cent watch. It’ll last for only a minute, and then I’ll step out and explain to her. You really owe it to me to give me the chance, Westbrook.”</p>
 			<p>Editor Westbrook at length yielded, though but half willingly. And in the half of him that consented lurked the vivisectionist that is in all of us. Let him who has not used the scalpel rise and stand in his place. Pity ’tis that there are not enough rabbits and guinea-pigs to go around.</p>
-			<p>The two experimenters in Art left the Square and hurried eastward and then to the south until they arrived in the Gramercy neighborhood. Within its high iron railings the little park had put on its smart coat of vernal green, and was admiring itself in its fountain mirror. Outside the railings the hollow square of crumbling houses, shells of a bygone gentry, leaned as if in ghostly gossip over the forgotten doings of the vanished quality. <i>Sic transit gloria urbis</i>.</p>
+			<p>The two experimenters in Art left the Square and hurried eastward and then to the south until they arrived in the Gramercy neighborhood. Within its high iron railings the little park had put on its smart coat of vernal green, and was admiring itself in its fountain mirror. Outside the railings the hollow square of crumbling houses, shells of a bygone gentry, leaned as if in ghostly gossip over the forgotten doings of the vanished quality. <i xml:lang="la">Sic transit gloria urbis.</i></p>
 			<p>A block or two north of the Park, Dawe steered the editor again eastward, then, after covering a short distance, into a lofty but narrow flathouse burdened with a floridly over-decorated façade. To the fifth story they toiled, and Dawe, panting, pushed his latchkey into the door of one of the front flats.</p>
 			<p>When the door opened Editor Westbrook saw, with feelings of pity, how meanly and meagerly the rooms were furnished.</p>
 			<p>“Get a chair, if you can find one,” said Dawe, “while I hunt up pen and ink. Hello, what’s this? Here’s a note from Louise. She must have left it there when she went out this morning.”</p>