Titlecase song

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 			<p>At last, genuinely tired and bewildered by so much noise, Rosemary jumped up and, laughing, declared that she must escape out of the bear-garden for a moment and get a breath of fresh air in the park. In order to reach the glass door that gave on the veranda, Rosemary had to go past the piano. Quite close. Peter looked up when she was near him, and she said to him as she went past: “They are very gay, aren’t they?”</p>
 			<p>“Elza has a perfectly mad plan in her head,” Peter replied, and struck a few loud chords so that no one save Rosemary should hear what he said. “For God’s sake, if you have any influence over her, get her to give it up.”</p>
 			<p>Then he shouted merrily: “I’ve had enough of those horrible American tunes. Who wants a csàrdàs?”</p>
-			<p>But he did not play a csàrdàs. For a moment or two his fingers wandered aimlessly over the keys, whilst his eyes followed Rosemary as she stepped through the glass door on to the sunbathed veranda. And as Rosemary felt the sun, the clear, luscious air, the scent of flowers and of distant pines, envelop her as in a warm mantle, there came wafted to her ears the soft strains of that exquisite Hungarian love-song: “<span epub:type="se:name.music.song">There is but one beautiful girl in all the world</span>.” The piano now seemed to sing under Peter’s delicate touch and Rosemary paused and stood quite, quite still, letting the music sink into her, yielding to its voluptuous cadence, and allowing her thoughts, her desires, her longings, to soar upwards to that infinity to which music alone can convey the soul on its magic wings.</p>
+			<p>But he did not play a csàrdàs. For a moment or two his fingers wandered aimlessly over the keys, whilst his eyes followed Rosemary as she stepped through the glass door on to the sunbathed veranda. And as Rosemary felt the sun, the clear, luscious air, the scent of flowers and of distant pines, envelop her as in a warm mantle, there came wafted to her ears the soft strains of that exquisite Hungarian love-song: “<span epub:type="se:name.music.song">There Is but One Beautiful Girl in All the World</span>.” The piano now seemed to sing under Peter’s delicate touch and Rosemary paused and stood quite, quite still, letting the music sink into her, yielding to its voluptuous cadence, and allowing her thoughts, her desires, her longings, to soar upwards to that infinity to which music alone can convey the soul on its magic wings.</p>
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