Fix typos

src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml

@@ -67,7 +67,7 @@
 			<p>While I was chuckling over this, he had raised a similar flap on the other side of the Parnassus which revealed still more shelves loaded with books.</p>
 			<p>I’m afraid I am severely practical by nature.</p>
 			<p>“Well!” I said, “I should think you <em>would</em> need a pretty stout steed to lug that load along. It must weigh more than a coal wagon.”</p>
-			<p>“Oh, Peg can manage it all right,” he said. “We don’t travel very fast. But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose your husband would buy the outfit⁠—Parnassus, Pegasus, and all? He’s fond of books, isn’t he?</p>
+			<p>“Oh, Peg can manage it all right,” he said. “We don’t travel very fast. But look here, I want to sell out. Do you suppose your husband would buy the outfit⁠—Parnassus, Pegasus, and all? He’s fond of books, isn’t he?”</p>
 			<p>“Hold on a minute!” I said. “Andrew’s my brother, not my husband, and he’s altogether <em>too</em> fond of books. Books’ll be the ruin of this farm pretty soon. He’s mooning about over his books like a sitting hen about half the time, when he ought to be mending harness. Lord, if he saw this wagonload of yours he’d be unsettled for a week. I have to stop the postman down the road and take all the publishers’ catalogues out of the mail so that Andrew don’t see ’em. I’m mighty glad he’s not here just now, I can tell you!”</p>
 			<p>I’m not literary, as I said before, but I’m human enough to like a good book, and my eye was running along those shelves of his as I spoke. He certainly had a pretty miscellaneous collection. I noticed poetry, essays, novels, cook books, juveniles, school books, Bibles, and whatnot⁠—all jumbled together.</p>
 			<p>“Well, see here,” said the little man⁠—and about this time I noticed that he had the bright eyes of a fanatic⁠—“I’ve been cruising with this Parnassus going on seven years. I’ve covered the territory from Florida to Maine and I reckon I’ve injected about as much good literature into the countryside as ever old Doc Eliot did with his five-foot shelf. I want to sell out now. I’m going to write a book about ‘Literature Among the Farmers,’ and want to settle down with my brother in Brooklyn and write it. I’ve got a sackful of notes for it. I guess I’ll just stick around until <abbr>Mr.</abbr> McGill gets home and see if he won’t buy me out. I’ll sell the whole concern, horse, wagon, and books, for $400. I’ve read Andrew McGill’s stuff and I reckon the proposition’ll interest him. I’ve had more fun with this Parnassus than a barrel of monkeys. I used to be a school teacher till my health broke down. Then I took this up and I’ve made more than expenses and had the time of my life.”</p>