Add z3998:name-title semantic to some abbreviations

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@@ -19,16 +19,16 @@
 			<p>The bells of <abbr>St.</abbr> Catherine’s chimed seven; the splenetic treble of <abbr>St.</abbr> Mary’s seconded; the basses of the great church, and the German church joined in, and soon the air was vibrating with the sound made by the seven bells of the town; then one after the other relapsed into silence, until far away in the distance only the last one of them could be heard singing its peaceful evensong; it had a higher note, a purer tone and a quicker tempo than the others⁠—yes, it had! He listened and wondered whence the sound came, for it seemed to stir up vague memories in him. All of a sudden his face relaxed and his features expressed the misery of a forsaken child. And he was forsaken; his father and mother were lying in the churchyard of <abbr>St.</abbr> Clara’s, from whence the bell could still be heard; and he was a child; he still believed in everything, truth and fairy tales alike.</p>
 			<p>The bell of <abbr>St.</abbr> Clara’s was silent, and the sound of footsteps on the gravel path roused him from his reverie. A short man with side-whiskers came towards him from the verandah; he wore spectacles, apparently more for the sake of protecting his glances than his eyes, and his malicious mouth was generally twisted into a kindly, almost benevolent, expression. He was dressed in a neat overcoat with defective buttons, a somewhat battered hat, and trousers hoisted at half-mast. His walk indicated assurance as well as timidity. His whole appearance was so indefinite that it was impossible to guess at his age or social position. He might just as well have been an artisan as a government official; his age was anything between twenty-nine and forty-five years. He was obviously flattered to find himself in the company of the man whom he had come to meet, for he raised his bulging hat with unusual ceremony and smiled his kindliest smile.</p>
 			<p>“I hope you haven’t been waiting, assessor?”</p>
-			<p>“Not for a second; it’s only just struck seven. Thank you for coming. I must confess that this meeting is of the greatest importance to me; I might almost say it concerns my whole future, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Struve.”</p>
+			<p>“Not for a second; it’s only just struck seven. Thank you for coming. I must confess that this meeting is of the greatest importance to me; I might almost say it concerns my whole future, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Struve.”</p>
 			<p>“Bless me! Do you mean it?”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Struve blinked; he had come to drink a glass of toddy and was very little inclined for a serious conversation. He had his reasons for that.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Struve blinked; he had come to drink a glass of toddy and was very little inclined for a serious conversation. He had his reasons for that.</p>
 			<p>“We shall be more undisturbed if we have our toddy outside, if you don’t mind,” continued the assessor.</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Struve stroked his right whisker, put his hat carefully on his head and thanked the assessor for his invitation; but he looked uneasy.</p>
-			<p>“To begin with, I must ask you to drop the ‘assessor,’ ” began the young man. “I’ve never been more than a regular assistant, and I cease to be even that from today; I’m <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Falk, nothing else.”</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Struve stroked his right whisker, put his hat carefully on his head and thanked the assessor for his invitation; but he looked uneasy.</p>
+			<p>“To begin with, I must ask you to drop the ‘assessor,’ ” began the young man. “I’ve never been more than a regular assistant, and I cease to be even that from today; I’m <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Falk, nothing else.”</p>
 			<p>“What?”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Struve looked as if he had lost a distinguished friend, but he kept his temper.</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Struve looked as if he had lost a distinguished friend, but he kept his temper.</p>
 			<p>“You’re a man with liberal tendencies.⁠ ⁠…”</p>
-			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Struve tried to explain himself, but Falk continued:</p>
+			<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Struve tried to explain himself, but Falk continued:</p>
 			<p>“I asked you to meet me here in your character of contributor to the liberal <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Red Cap</i>.”</p>
 			<p>“Good heavens! I’m such a very unimportant contributor.⁠ ⁠…”</p>
 			<p>“I’ve read your thundering articles on the working man’s question, and all other questions which nearly concern us. We’re in the year three, in Roman figures, for it is now the third year of the new Parliament, and soon our hopes will have become realities. I’ve read your excellent biographies of our leading politicians in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Peasant’s Friend</i>, the lives of those men of the people, who have at last been allowed to voice what oppressed them for so long; you’re a man of progress and I’ve a great respect for you.”</p>

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@@ -38,7 +38,7 @@
 			<p>On the following day the morning papers announced the fact that his Majesty had bought Sellén’s “masterly landscape which, for days, had drawn a large public to the Exhibition.”</p>
 			<p>The <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i> received the full fury of the gale; it was tossed hither and thither, and fluttered like a rag on a pole. Should they veer round or steer ahead? Both paper and critic were involved. The chief editor decided, by order of the managing director, to sacrifice the critic and save the paper. But how was it to be done? In their extremity they remembered Struve. He was a man completely at home in the maze of publicity. He was sent for. The situation was clear to him in a moment, and he promised that in a very few days the barge should be able to tack.</p>
 			<p>To understand Struve’s scheme, it is necessary to know the most important data of his biography. He was a “born student,” driven to journalism by sheer poverty. He started his career as editor of the Socialist <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">People’s Flag</i>. Next he belonged to the Conservative <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Peasants’ Scourge</i>, but when the latter removed to the provinces with inventory, printing plant and editor, the name was changed into <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Peasants’ Friend</i>, and its politics changed accordingly. Struve was sold to the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Red Cap</i>, where his knowledge of all the Conservative tricks stood him in good stead; in the same way his greatest merit in the eyes of the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i> was his knowledge of all the secrets of their deadly foe, the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Red Cap</i>, and his readiness to abuse his knowledge of them.</p>
-			<p>Struve began the work of whitewashing by starting a correspondence in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">People’s Flag</i>; a few lines of this, mentioning the rush of visitors to the Exhibition, were reprinted in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i>. Next there appeared in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i> an attack on the academician; this attack was followed by a few reassuring words signed “The <abbr>Ed.</abbr>” which read as follows: “Although we never shared the opinion of our art critic with regard to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Sellén’s justly praised landscape, yet we cannot altogether agree with the judgment of our respected correspondent; but as, on principle, we open our columns to all opinions, we unhesitatingly printed the above article.”</p>
+			<p>Struve began the work of whitewashing by starting a correspondence in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">People’s Flag</i>; a few lines of this, mentioning the rush of visitors to the Exhibition, were reprinted in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i>. Next there appeared in the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i> an attack on the academician; this attack was followed by a few reassuring words signed “The <abbr>Ed.</abbr>” which read as follows: “Although we never shared the opinion of our art critic with regard to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Sellén’s justly praised landscape, yet we cannot altogether agree with the judgment of our respected correspondent; but as, on principle, we open our columns to all opinions, we unhesitatingly printed the above article.”</p>
 			<p>The ice was broken. Struve, who had the reputation of having written on every subject⁠—except cufic coins⁠—now wrote a brilliant critique of Sellén’s picture and signed it very characteristically “Dixi.” The <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Grey Bonnet</i> was saved; and so, of course, was Sellén; but the latter was of minor importance.</p>
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@@ -29,7 +29,7 @@
 			<p>Sellén agreed.</p>
 			<p>“I have been painting just as well these last five years and all the world has jeered; they were still jeering the day before yesterday, but now! It’s disgusting! Look at this letter which I received from the idiot, the professor of Charles <span epub:type="z3998:roman">IX</span>!”</p>
 			<p>All eyes opened wide and became keen, for it is gratifying to examine the oppressor closely, have him⁠—on paper at least⁠—in one’s hands, at one’s mercy.</p>
-			<p>“ ‘My dear <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Sellén,’⁠—Fancy that!⁠—‘Let me welcome you among us’⁠—he’s afraid of me, the blackguard⁠—‘I have always appreciated your talent’⁠—the liar!⁠—let’s tear up the rag and forget all about him.”</p>
+			<p>“ ‘My dear <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Sellén,’⁠—Fancy that!⁠—‘Let me welcome you among us’⁠—he’s afraid of me, the blackguard⁠—‘I have always appreciated your talent’⁠—the liar!⁠—let’s tear up the rag and forget all about him.”</p>
 			<p>Sellén invited his friends to drink; he drank to Falk, and hoped that his pen would soon bring him to the front. Falk became self-conscious, blushed and promised to do his best when his time came; but he was afraid that his apprenticeship would be a long one, and he begged his friends not to lose patience with him if he tarried; he thanked Sellén for his friendship, which had taught him endurance and renunciation. Sellén begged him not to talk nonsense; where was the merit of endurance when there was no other alternative? And where was the virtue in renouncing what one had no chance of obtaining?</p>
 			<p>But Olle smiled a kindly smile, and his shirt front swelled with pleasure, so that the red braces could be plainly seen; he drank to Lundell and implored him to take an example from Sellén, and not forget the Land of Promise in lingering over the fleshpots of Egypt. He assured him that his friend, Olle, believed in his talent, that was to say, when he was himself and painted according to his own light; but whenever he humbugged and painted to please others he was worse than the rest; therefore he should look upon the altarpiece as a pot boiler which would put him into a position to follow his own inspiration in art.</p>
 			<p>Falk tried to seize the opportunity of finding out what Olle thought of himself and his own art, a puzzle which he had long vainly attempted to solve, when Ygberg walked into the Red Room. Everybody eagerly invited him to be his guest, for he had been forgotten during the last hot days, and everyone was anxious to show him that it had not been out of selfishness. But Olle searched in his right waistcoat pocket, and with a movement which he was anxious to hide from all eyes he slipped a rolled-up banknote into Ygberg’s coat pocket; the latter understood and acknowledged it by a grateful look.</p>