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@@ -66,7 +66,7 @@
 			<p>“You shall hear what it can be. I will read it you,” said Priscilla. “It seems to me that of all the women that ever lived my Aunt Stanbury is the most prejudiced, the most unjust, and the most given to evil thinking of her neighbours. This is what she has thought fit to write to you, mamma.” Then Priscilla read her aunt’s letter, which was as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, Exeter, July 31, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, Exeter, July 31, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Sister Stanbury,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I am informed that the lady who is living with you because she could not continue to live under the same roof with her lawful husband, has received a visit at your house from a gentleman who was named as her lover before she left her own. I am given to understand that it was because of this gentleman’s visits to her in London, and because she would not give up seeing him, that her husband would not live with her any longer.</p>
@@ -92,7 +92,7 @@
 			<p>Then she wrote her letter as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 1, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 1, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Aunt Stanbury,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>You have found a mare’s nest. The gentleman you speak of has never been here at all, and the people who bring you news have probably hoaxed you. I don’t think that mamma has ever disgraced the family, and you can have no reason for thinking that she ever will. You should, at any rate, be sure of what you are saying before you make such cruel accusations.</p>
@@ -116,7 +116,7 @@
 			<p>“Yes, yours and your mother’s, and the lady’s also⁠—for against her has the fault been most grievous. I shall write to your mother and express my contrition.” She put off the evil hour of writing as long as she could, but before dinner the painful letter had been written, and carried by herself to the post. It was as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, August 3, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, August 3, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Sister Stanbury,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I have now learned that the information was false on which my former letter was based. I am heartily sorry for any annoyance I may have given you. I can only inform you that my intentions were good and upright. Nevertheless, I humbly beg your pardon.</p>
@@ -128,7 +128,7 @@
 			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Stanbury, when she received this, was inclined to let the matter drop. That her sister-in-law should express such abject contrition was to her such a lowering of the great ones of the earth, that the apology conveyed to her more pain than pleasure. She could not hinder herself from sympathising with all that her sister-in-law had felt when she had found herself called upon to humiliate herself. But it was not so with Priscilla. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Stanbury did not observe that her daughter’s name was scrupulously avoided in the apology; but Priscilla observed it. She would not let the matter drop, without an attempt at the last word. She therefore wrote back again as follows;⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 4, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 4, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Aunt Stanbury,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I am glad you have satisfied yourself about the gentleman who has so much disquieted you. I do not know that the whole affair would be worth a moment’s consideration, were it not that mamma and I, living as we do so secluded a life, are peculiarly apt to feel any attack upon our good name⁠—which is pretty nearly all that is left to us. If ever there were women who should be free from attack, at any rate from those of their own family, we are such women. We never interfere with you, or with anybody; and I think you might abstain from harassing us by accusations.</p>

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@@ -16,7 +16,7 @@
 			<p>It was thus with no settled scheme that the Colonel went to work, and made inquiries, and ascertained <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Trevelyan’s address in Devonshire. When he learned it, he thought that he had done much; though, in truth, there had been no secrecy in the matter. Scores of people knew <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Trevelyan’s address besides the newsvendor who supplied her paper, from whose boy Colonel Osborne’s servant obtained the information. But when the information had been obtained, it was expedient that it should be used; and therefore Colonel Osborne wrote the following letter:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Acrobats Club, July 31, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Acrobats Club, July 31, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Emily,</p>
 				</header>
 			</blockquote>

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@@ -45,7 +45,7 @@
 			<p>The reader may as well see the letter which was as civil a letter as ever one woman wrote to another, so that the collection of the Stanbury correspondence may be made perfect.</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, August 6, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">The Close, August 6, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">My Dear Niece,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>Your letter has not astonished me nearly as much as you expected it would. I am an older woman than you, and, though you will not believe it, I have seen more of the world. I knew that the gentleman would come after the lady. Such gentlemen always do go after their ladies. As for yourself, I can see all that you have done, and pretty nearly hear all that you have said, as plain as a pikestaff. I do you the credit of believing that the plan is none of your making. I know who made the plan, and a very bad plan it is.</p>

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@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@
 			<p>She tried hard to persuade herself to write at once and tell her sister to marry the man. She knew her sister’s heart so well as to be sure that Dorothy would learn to love the man who was her husband. It was almost impossible that Dorothy should not love those with whom she lived. And then her sister was so well adapted to be a wife and a mother. Her temper was so sweet, she was so pure, so unselfish, so devoted, and so healthy withal! She was so happy when she was acting for others; and so excellent in action when she had another one to think for her! She was so trusting and trustworthy that any husband would adore her! Then Priscilla walked slowly into the house, got her prayerbook, and returning to her seat under the tree read the marriage service. It was one o’clock when she went upstairs to write her letter, and it had not yet struck eleven when she first seated herself beneath the tree. Her letter, when written, was as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 25, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Nuncombe Putney, August 25, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dearest Dorothy,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I got your letter this morning, and I think it is better to answer it at once, as the time is very short. I have been thinking about it with all my mind, and I feel almost awestricken lest I should advise you wrongly. After all, I believe that your own dear sweet truth and honesty would guide you better than anybody else can guide you. You may be sure of this, that whichever way it is, I shall think that you have done right. Dearest sister, I suppose there can be no doubt that for most women a married life is happier than a single one. It is always thought so, as we may see by the anxiety of others to get married; and when an opinion becomes general, I think that the world is most often right. And then, my own one, I feel sure that you are adapted both for the cares and for the joys of married life. You would do your duty as a married woman happily, and would be a comfort to your husband;⁠—not a thorn in his side, as are so many women.</p>

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@@ -15,7 +15,7 @@
 			<p>Then there came the correspondence between Priscilla and Hugh. Priscilla was at first decided, indeed, but mild in the expression of her decision. To this, and to one or two other missives couched in terms of increasing decision, Hugh answered with manly, self-asserting, overbearing arguments. The house was theirs till Christmas; between this and then he would think about it. He could very well afford to keep the house on till next Midsummer, and then they might see what had best be done. There was plenty of money, and Priscilla need not put herself into a flutter. In answer to that word flutter, Priscilla wrote as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Clock House, September 16, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Clock House, September 16, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Dear Hugh,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I know very well how good you are, and how generous, but you must allow me to have feelings as well as yourself. I will not consent to have myself regarded as a grand lady out of your earnings. How should I feel when some day I heard that you had run yourself into debt? Neither mamma nor I could endure it. Dorothy is provided for now, at any rate for a time, and what we have is enough for us. You know I am not too proud to take anything you can spare to us, when we are ourselves placed in a proper position: but I could not live in this great house, while you are paying for everything⁠—and I will not. Mamma quite agrees with me, and we shall go out of it on Michaelmas-day. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Crocket says she thinks she can get you a tenant for the three months, out of Exeter⁠—if not for the whole rent, at least for part of it. I think we have already got a small place for eight shillings a week, a little out of the village, on the road to Cockchaffington. You will remember it. Old Soames used to live there. Our old furniture will be just enough. There is a mite of a garden, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Crocket says she thinks we can get it for seven shillings, or perhaps for six and sixpence, if we stay there. We shall go in on the 29th. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Crocket will see about having somebody to take care of the house.</p>

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@@ -15,7 +15,7 @@
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
 					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough,<br/>
-					September 29, 186-, 4:30 <abbr class="eoc">p.m.</abbr></p>
+					September 29, 186‒, 4:30 <abbr class="eoc">p.m.</abbr></p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Hond. Sir,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>Since I wrote yesterday morning, something has occurred which, it may be, and I think it will, will help to bring this melancholy affair to a satisfactory termination and conclusion. I had better explain, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trewilyan, how I have been at work from the beginning about watching the Colonel. I couldn’t do nothing with the porter at the Albany, which he is always mostly muzzled with beer, and he wouldn’t have taken my money, not on the square. So, when it was tellegrammed to me as the Colonel was on the move in the North, I put on two boys as knows the Colonel, at eighteenpence a day, at each end, one Piccadilly end, and the other Saville Row end, and yesterday morning, as quick as ever could be, after the Limited Express Edinburgh Male Up was in, there comes the Saville Row End Boy here to say as the Colonel was lodged safe in his downey. Then I was off immediate myself to <abbr>St.</abbr> Diddulph’s, because I knows what it is to trust to Inferiors when matters gets delicate. Now, there hadn’t been no letters from the Colonel, nor none to him as I could make out, though that mightn’t be so sure. She might have had ’em addressed to <abbr epub:type="z3998:personal-name">A. Z.</abbr>, or the like of that, at any of the Post-offices as was distant, as nobody could give the notice to ’em all. Barring the money, which I know ain’t an object when the end is so desirable, it don’t do to be too ubiketous, because things will go astray. But I’ve kept my eye uncommon open, and I don’t think there have been no letters since that last which was sent, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Trewilyan, let any of ’em, parsons, or whatnot, say what they will. And I don’t see as parsons are better than other folk when they has to do with a lady as likes her fancy-man.</p>
@@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
 			<p>But in the meantime he wrote a letter to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Outhouse. Colonel Osborne, after all that had been said, had been admitted at the parsonage, and Trevelyan was determined to let the clergyman know what he thought about it. The oftener he turned the matter in his mind, as he walked slowly up and down the piazza of <abbr>St.</abbr> Mark, the more absurd it appeared to him to doubt that his wife had seen the man. Of course she had seen him. He walked there nearly the whole night, thinking of it, and as he dragged himself off at last to his inn, had almost come to have but one desire⁠—namely, that he should find her out, that the evidence should be conclusive, that it should be proved, and so brought to an end. Then he would destroy her, and destroy that man⁠—and afterwards destroy himself, so bitter to him would be his ignominy. He almost revelled in the idea of the tragedy he would make. It was three o’clock before he was in his bedroom, and then he wrote his letter to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Outhouse before he took himself to his bed. It was as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Venice, <abbr>Oct.</abbr> 4, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline">Venice, <abbr>Oct.</abbr> 4, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Sir,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>Information of a certain kind, on which I can place a firm reliance, has reached me, to the effect that Colonel Osborne has been allowed to visit at your house during the sojourn of my wife under your roof. I will thank you to inform me whether this be true; as, although I am confident of my facts, it is necessary, in reference to my ulterior conduct, that I should have from you either an admission or a denial of my assertion. It is of course open to you to leave my letter unanswered. Should you think proper to do so, I shall know also how to deal with that fact.</p>
@@ -52,7 +52,7 @@
 			<p>There had been a method in Trevelyan’s madness; for though he had declared to himself that without doubt Bozzle had been right in saying that as the Colonel had been at the parsonage, therefore, as a certainty, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Trevelyan had met the Colonel there, yet he had not so stated in his letter. He had merely asserted that Colonel Osborne had been at the house, and had founded his accusation upon that alleged fact. The alleged fact had been in truth a fact. So far Bozzle had been right. The Colonel had been at the parsonage; and the reader knows how far <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Outhouse had been to blame for his share in the matter! He rushed off to his wife with the letter, declaring at first that <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Trevelyan, Nora, and the child, and the servant, should be sent out of the house at once. But at last <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Outhouse succeeded in showing him that he would not be justified in ill-using them because Trevelyan had ill-used him. “But I will write to him,” said <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Outhouse. “He shall know what I think about it.” And he did write his letter that day, in spite of his wife’s entreaties that he would allow the sun to set upon his wrath. And his letter was as follows:⁠—</p>
 			<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
 				<header>
-					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline"><abbr>St.</abbr> Diddulph’s, October 8, 186-.</p>
+					<p epub:type="se:letter.dateline"><abbr>St.</abbr> Diddulph’s, October 8, 186‒.</p>
 					<p epub:type="z3998:salutation">Sir,</p>
 				</header>
 				<p>I have received your letter of the 4th, which is more iniquitous, unjust, and ungrateful, than anything I ever before saw written. I have been surprised from the first at your gross cruelty to your unoffending wife; but even that seems to me more intelligible than your conduct in writing such words as those which you have dared to send to me.</p>