[Editorial] up stairs -> upstairs

src/epub/text/in-mezzotint.xhtml

@@ -26,7 +26,7 @@
 			<p>“Somewhere,” said the doctor, lighting his cigar afresh.</p>
 			<p>“Finish your cigar, Ralph, and then come up,” she said. “I’m a little tired, and I’ll wait for you above.”</p>
 			<p>“All right, little one,” said the doctor. “Pleasant dreams!” He smoked the cigar out, and then lit another.</p>
-			<p>It was nearly eleven when he went up stairs.</p>
+			<p>It was nearly eleven when he went upstairs.</p>
 			<p>The light in his wife’s room was turned low, and she lay upon her bed undressed. As he stepped to her side and raised her hand, some steel instrument fell and jingled upon the floor, and he saw upon the white countenance a creeping red horror that froze his blood.</p>
 			<p>He sprang to the lamp and turned up the blaze. As he parted his lips to send forth a shout, he paused for a moment, with his eyes upon his dead patient’s half ticket that lay upon the table. The other half had been neatly fitted to it, and it now read:</p>
 			<div>

src/epub/text/the-barber-talks.xhtml

@@ -25,7 +25,7 @@
 			<p>“One day I noticed a man that got out of Bill’s chair acting queer and he staggered as he went out. A day or two afterwards the shop was full of customers from morning till night, and one man came back and had a shave three different times in the forenoon. In a couple of days more there was a crowd of men in the shop, and they had a line formed outside two or three doors down the sidewalk. Bill made $9.00 that day. That evening a policeman came in and jerked me up for running a saloon without a license. It seems that Bill’s breath was so full of whiskey that every man he shaved went out feeling pretty hilarious and sent his friends there to be shaved. It cost me $300 to get out of it, and I shipped Bill to Florida pretty soon afterward.”</p>
 			<hr/>
 			<p>“I was sent for once,” went on the barber, as he seized his victim by the ear and slammed his head over on the other side, “to go out on Piney Street and shave a dead man. Barbers don’t much like a job of that kind, although they get from $5 to $10 for the work. It was 1908 Piney Street. I started about 11 o’clock at night. I found the street all right and I counted from the corner until I found 1908. I had my razors, soap and mug in a little case I use for such purposes. I went in and knocked at the door. An old man opened it and his eye fell on my case.</p>
-			<p>“ ‘You’ve come, have you?’ he asked. ‘Well, go up stairs; he’s in the front room to your right. There’s nobody with him. He hasn’t any friends or relatives in town; he’s only been boarding here about a week.’</p>
+			<p>“ ‘You’ve come, have you?’ he asked. ‘Well, go upstairs; he’s in the front room to your right. There’s nobody with him. He hasn’t any friends or relatives in town; he’s only been boarding here about a week.’</p>
 			<p>“ ‘How long since he⁠—since it occurred?’ I asked.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘About an hour, I guess,’ says the old man. I was glad of that because corpses always shave better before they get good and cold. I went in the room and turned up the lamp. The man was laid out on the bed. He was warm yet and he had about a week’s growth of beard on. I got to work and in half an hour I had given him a nice clean shave that would have done his heart good if he had been alive. Then I went down stairs and saw the old man.</p>
 			<p>“ ‘What success?’ he asked.</p>

src/epub/text/the-buyer-from-cactus-city.xhtml

@@ -27,7 +27,7 @@
 			<p>“I shouldn’t care to live in it,” said the Texan. “Your son and I knocked around quite a little last night. You’ve got good water, but Cactus City is better lit up.”</p>
 			<p>“We’ve got a few lights on Broadway, don’t you think, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Platt?”</p>
 			<p>“And a good many shadows,” said Platt. “I think I like your horses best. I haven’t seen a crow-bait since I’ve been in town.”</p>
-			<p>Zizzbaum led him up stairs to show the samples of suits.</p>
+			<p>Zizzbaum led him upstairs to show the samples of suits.</p>
 			<p>“Ask Miss Asher to come,” he said to a clerk.</p>
 			<p>Miss Asher came, and Platt, of Navarro &amp; Platt, felt for the first time the wonderful bright light of romance and glory descend upon him. He stood still as a granite cliff above the canyon of the Colorado, with his wide-open eyes fixed upon her. She noticed his look and flushed a little, which was contrary to her custom.</p>
 			<p>Miss Asher was the crack model of Zizzbaum &amp; Son. She was of the blond type known as “medium,” and her measurements even went the required 38⁠–⁠25⁠–⁠42 standard a little better. She had been at Zizzbaum’s two years, and knew her business. Her eye was bright, but cool; and had she chosen to match her gaze against the optic of the famed basilisk, that fabulous monster’s gaze would have wavered and softened first. Incidentally, she knew buyers.</p>

src/epub/text/the-marionettes.xhtml

@@ -81,7 +81,7 @@
 			<p>“Lift your arm,” said Doctor James.</p>
 			<p>“You know⁠—I can’t move, Doctor.”</p>
 			<p>The physician stepped swiftly to the hall door, opened it, and listened. All was still. Without further circumvention he went to the safe, and examined it. Of a primitive make and simple design, it afforded little more security than protection against light-fingered servants. To his skill it was a mere toy, a thing of straw and pasteboard. The money was as good as in his hands. With his clamps he could draw the knob, punch the tumblers and open the door in two minutes. Perhaps, in another way, he might open it in one.</p>
-			<p>Kneeling upon the floor, he laid his ear to the combination plate, and slowly turned the knob. As he had surmised, it was locked at only a “day com.”⁠—upon one number. His keen ear caught the faint warning click as the tumbler was disturbed; he used the clue⁠—the handle turned. He swung the door wide open.</p>
+			<p>Kneeling upon the floor, he laid his ear to the combination plate, and slowly turned the knob. As he had surmised, it was locked at only a “day <abbr>com.</abbr>”⁠—upon one number. His keen ear caught the faint warning click as the tumbler was disturbed; he used the clue⁠—the handle turned. He swung the door wide open.</p>
 			<p>The interior of the safe was bare⁠—not even a scrap of paper rested within the hollow iron cube.</p>
 			<p>Doctor James rose to his feet and walked back to the bed.</p>
 			<p>A thick dew had formed upon the dying man’s brow, but there was a mocking, grim smile on his lips and in his eyes.</p>
@@ -90,12 +90,12 @@
 			<p>“You were⁠—just a shade⁠—too⁠—anxious⁠—about that money. But it never was⁠—in any danger⁠—from you, dear Doctor. It’s safe. Perfectly safe. It’s all⁠—in the hands⁠—of the bookmakers. Twenty⁠—thousand⁠—Amy’s money. I played it at the races⁠—lost every⁠—cent of it. I’ve been a pretty bad boy, Burglar⁠—excuse me⁠—Doctor, but I’ve been a square sport. I don’t think⁠—I ever met⁠—such an⁠—eighteen-carat rascal as you are, Doctor⁠—excuse me⁠—Burglar, in all my rounds. Is it contrary⁠—to the ethics⁠—of your⁠—gang, Burglar, to give a victim⁠—excuse me⁠—patient, a drink of water?”</p>
 			<p>Doctor James brought him a drink. He could scarcely swallow it. The reaction from the powerful drug was coming in regular, intensifying waves. But his moribund fancy must have one more grating fling.</p>
 			<p>“Gambler⁠—drunkard⁠—spendthrift⁠—I’ve been those, but⁠—a doctor-burglar!”</p>
-			<p>The physician indulged himself to but one reply to the other’s caustic taunts. Bending low to catch Chandler’s fast crystallizing gaze, he pointed to the sleeping lady’s door with a gesture so stern and significant that the prostrate man half-lifted his head, with his remaining strength, to see. He saw nothing; but he caught the cold words of the doctor⁠—the last sounds hie was to hear:</p>
+			<p>The physician indulged himself to but one reply to the other’s caustic taunts. Bending low to catch Chandler’s fast crystallizing gaze, he pointed to the sleeping lady’s door with a gesture so stern and significant that the prostrate man half-lifted his head, with his remaining strength, to see. He saw nothing; but he caught the cold words of the doctor⁠—the last sounds he was to hear:</p>
 			<p>“I never yet⁠—struck a woman.”</p>
 			<p>It were vain to attempt to con such men. There is no curriculum that can reckon with them in its ken. They are offshoots from the types whereof men say, “He will do this,” or “He will do that.” We only know that they exist; and that we can observe them, and tell one another of their bare performances, as children watch and speak of the marionettes.</p>
 			<p>Yet it were a droll study in egoism to consider these two⁠—one an assassin and a robber, standing above his victim; the other baser in his offences, if a lesser lawbreaker, lying, abhorred, in the house of the wife he had persecuted, spoiled, and smitten, one a tiger, the other a dog-wolf⁠—to consider each of them sickening at the foulness of the other; and each flourishing out of the mire of his manifest guilt his own immaculate standard⁠—of conduct, if not of honor.</p>
 			<p>The one retort of Doctor James must have struck home to the other’s remaining shreds of shame and manhood, for it proved the <span xml:lang="fr">coup de grâce</span>. A deep blush suffused his face⁠—an ignominious <i xml:lang="la">rosa mortis</i>; the respiration ceased, and, with scarcely a tremor, Chandler expired.</p>
-			<p>Close following upon his last breath came the negress, bringing the medicine. With a hand gently pressing upon the closed eyelids, Doctor James told her of the end. Not grief, but a hereditary rapprochement with death in the abstract, moved her to a dismal, watery snuffling, accompanied by her usual jeremiad.</p>
+			<p>Close following upon his last breath came the negress, bringing the medicine. With a hand gently pressing upon the closed eyelids, Doctor James told her of the end. Not grief, but a hereditary <span xml:lang="fr">rapprochement</span> with death in the abstract, moved her to a dismal, watery snuffling, accompanied by her usual jeremiad.</p>
 			<p>“Dar now! It’s in de Lawd’s hands. He am de jedge ob de transgressor, and de suppo’t of dem in distress. He gwine hab suppo’t us now. Cindy done paid out de last quarter fer dis bottle of physic, and it nebber come to no use.”</p>
 			<p>“Do I understand,” asked Doctor James, “that <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Chandler has no money?”</p>
 			<p>“Money, suh? You know what make Miss Amy fall down and so weak? Stahvation, sub. Nothin’ to eat in dis house but some crumbly crackers in three days. Dat angel sell her finger rings and watch mont’s ago. Dis fine house, suh, wid de red cyarpets and shiny bureaus, it’s all hired; and de man talkin’ scan’lous about de rent. Dat debble⁠—‘scuse me, Lawd⁠—he done in Yo’ hands fer jedgment, now⁠—he made way wid everything.”</p>