Semanticate

src/epub/text/a-bit-of-luck-for-mabel.xhtml

@@ -62,7 +62,7 @@
 			<p>Now, you know as well as I do, Corky, that for the ordinary workaday bloke Barts are tough birds to go up against. There is something about Barts that appeals to the most soulful girl. And, as for the average mother, she eats them alive. Even an elderly Bart with two chins and a bald head is bad enough, and this was a young and juicy specimen. He had a clean-cut, slightly pimply, patrician face; and, what was worse, he was in the Coldstream Guards. And you will bear me out, Corky, when I say that, while an ordinary civilian Bart is bad enough, a Bart who is also a Guardee is a rival the stoutest-hearted cove might well shudder at.</p>
 			<p>And when you consider that practically all I had to put up against this serious menace was honest worth and a happy disposition, you will understand why the brow was a good deal wrinkled as I sat sipping my tea and listening to the rest of the company talking about people I’d never heard of and entertainments where I hadn’t been among those we also noticed.</p>
 			<p>After a while the conversation turned to Ascot.</p>
-			<p>“Are you going to Ascot, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ukridge?” said Mabel’s mother, apparently feeling that it was time to include me in the chitchat.</p>
+			<p>“Are you going to Ascot, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Ukridge?” said Mabel’s mother, apparently feeling that it was time to include me in the chitchat.</p>
 			<p>“Wouldn’t miss it for worlds,” I said.</p>
 			<p>Though, as a matter of fact, until that moment I had rather intended to give it the go-by. Fond as I am of the sport of kings, to my mind a race meeting where you’ve got to go in a morning coat and a top hat⁠—with the thermometer probably in the nineties⁠—lacks fascination. I’m all for being the young duke when occasion requires, but races and toppers don’t seem to me to go together.</p>
 			<p>“That’s splendid,” said Mabel, and I’m bound to say these kind words cheered me up a good deal. “We shall meet there.”</p>
@@ -146,32 +146,32 @@
 			<p>“Insoluble, I should say. I shouldn’t worry any more about it.”</p>
 			<p>“One moment it was there, and the next it had gone.”</p>
 			<p>“How like life!” I said. “Makes one think a bit, that sort of thing.”</p>
-			<p>He pushed off, and I was just finishing my breakfast when <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale, my landlady, came in with a letter.</p>
+			<p>He pushed off, and I was just finishing my breakfast when <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale, my landlady, came in with a letter.</p>
 			<p>It was from Mabel, reminding me to be sure to come to Ascot. I read it three times while I was consuming a fried egg; and I am not ashamed to say, Corky, that tears filled my eyes. To think of her caring so much that she should send special letters urging me to be there made me tremble like a leaf. It looked to me as though the Bart’s number was up. Yes, at that moment, Corky, I felt positively sorry for the Bart, who was in his way quite a good chap, though pimply.</p>
 			<p>That night I made my final preparations. I counted the cash in hand. I had just enough to pay my fare to Ascot and back, my entrance fee to the grand stand and paddock, with a matter of fifteen bob over for lunch and general expenses and a thoughtful ten bob to do a bit of betting with. Financially, I was on velvet.</p>
 			<p>Nor was there much wrong with the costume department. I dug out the trousers, the morning coat, the waistcoat, the shoes and the spats, and I tried on Tuppy’s topper again. And for the twentieth time I wished that old Tuppy, a man of sterling qualities in every other respect, had had a slightly bigger head. It’s a curious thing about old George Tupper. There’s a man who you might say is practically directing the destinies of a great nation⁠—at any rate, he’s in the Foreign Office and extremely well thought of by the nibs; and yet his size in hats is a small seven. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed that Tuppy’s head goes up to a sort of point. Mine, on the other hand, is shaped more like a mangel-wurzel, and this made the whole thing rather complex and unpleasant.</p>
-			<p>As I stood at the glass, giving myself a final inspection, I couldn’t help feeling what a difference a hat makes to a man. Bareheaded, I was perfect in every detail, but with the hat on I looked a good deal like a bloke about to go on and do a comic song at one of the halls. Still, there it was, and it was no good worrying about it. I put the trousers under the mattress to insure an adequate crease, and I rang the bell for <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale and gave her the coat to press with a hot iron. I also gave her the hat and instructed her to rub stout on it. This, as you doubtless know, gives a topper the deuce of a gloss, and when a fellow is up against a Bart he can’t afford to neglect the smallest detail.</p>
+			<p>As I stood at the glass, giving myself a final inspection, I couldn’t help feeling what a difference a hat makes to a man. Bareheaded, I was perfect in every detail, but with the hat on I looked a good deal like a bloke about to go on and do a comic song at one of the halls. Still, there it was, and it was no good worrying about it. I put the trousers under the mattress to insure an adequate crease, and I rang the bell for <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale and gave her the coat to press with a hot iron. I also gave her the hat and instructed her to rub stout on it. This, as you doubtless know, gives a topper the deuce of a gloss, and when a fellow is up against a Bart he can’t afford to neglect the smallest detail.</p>
 			<p>And so to bed.</p>
 			<p>I didn’t sleep very well. At about one in the morning it started to rain in buckets, and the thought suddenly struck me: What the deuce was I going to do if it rained during the day? To buy an umbrella would simply dislocate the budget beyond repair. The consequence was that I tossed pretty restlessly on my pillow.</p>
-			<p>But all was well. When I woke at eight o’clock, the sun was pouring into the room and the last snag seemed to have been removed from my path. I had breakfast, and then I dug the trouserings out from under the mattress, slipped into them, put on the shoes, buckled the spats, and rang the bell for <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale. I was feeling debonair to a degree. The crease in the trousers was perfect.</p>
-			<p>“Oh, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said. “The coat and the hat, please. What a lovely morning!”</p>
+			<p>But all was well. When I woke at eight o’clock, the sun was pouring into the room and the last snag seemed to have been removed from my path. I had breakfast, and then I dug the trouserings out from under the mattress, slipped into them, put on the shoes, buckled the spats, and rang the bell for <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale. I was feeling debonair to a degree. The crease in the trousers was perfect.</p>
+			<p>“Oh, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said. “The coat and the hat, please. What a lovely morning!”</p>
 			<p>Now, this Beale woman, I must tell you, was a slightly sinister sort of female, with eyes that reminded me a good deal of my Aunt Julia’s. And I was now somewhat rattled to perceive that she was looking at me in a rather meaning kind of manner. I also perceived that she held in her hand a paper or document. And there shot through me, Corky, a nameless fear. It’s a kind of instinct, I suppose. A man who has been up against it as frequently as I have comes to shudder automatically when he sees a landlady holding a sheet of paper and looking at him in a meaning manner. A moment later it was plain that my sixth sense had not deceived me.</p>
-			<p>“I’ve brought your little account, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ukridge,” said this fearful female.</p>
+			<p>“I’ve brought your little account, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Ukridge,” said this fearful female.</p>
 			<p>“Right!” I said heartily. “Just shove it on the table, will you. And bring the coat and hat.”</p>
 			<p>She looked more like my Aunt Julia than ever.</p>
 			<p>“I must ask you for the money now,” she said. “Being a week overdue.”</p>
 			<p>All this was taking the sunshine out of the morning, but I remained debonair.</p>
-			<p>“Yes, yes,” I said. “I quite understand. We’ll have a good long talk about that later. The hat and coat, please, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale.”</p>
+			<p>“Yes, yes,” I said. “I quite understand. We’ll have a good long talk about that later. The hat and coat, please, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale.”</p>
 			<p>“I must ask you”⁠—she was beginning again, but I checked her with one of my looks. If there’s one thing I bar in this world, Corky, it’s sordidness.</p>
 			<p>“Yes, yes,” I said testily. “Some other time. I want the hat and coat, please.”</p>
 			<p>At this moment, by the greatest bad luck, her vampire gaze fell on the mantelpiece. You know how it is when you are dressing with unusual care⁠—you fill your pockets last thing. And I had most unfortunately placed my little capital on the mantelpiece. Too late I saw that she had spotted it. Take the advice of a man who has seen something of life, Corky, and never leave your money lying about. It’s bound to start a disagreeable train of thought in the mind of anyone who sees it.</p>
-			<p>“You’ve got the money there,” said <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale.</p>
+			<p>“You’ve got the money there,” said <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale.</p>
 			<p>I leaped for the mantelpiece and trousered the cash.</p>
 			<p>“No, no,” I said hastily. “You can’t have that. I need that.”</p>
 			<p>“Ho?” she said. “So do I.”</p>
-			<p>“Now listen, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said. “You know as well as I do⁠—”</p>
+			<p>“Now listen, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said. “You know as well as I do⁠—”</p>
 			<p>“I know as well as you do that you owe me two pounds three and sixpence ha’penny.”</p>
-			<p>“And in good time,” I said, “you shall have it. But just for the moment you must be patient. Why, dash it, <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said warmly, “you know as well as I do that in all financial transactions a certain amount of credit is an understood thing. Credit is the lifeblood of commerce. Without credit commerce has no elasticity. So bring the hat and coat, and later on we will thresh this matter out thoroughly.”</p>
+			<p>“And in good time,” I said, “you shall have it. But just for the moment you must be patient. Why, dash it, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Beale,” I said warmly, “you know as well as I do that in all financial transactions a certain amount of credit is an understood thing. Credit is the lifeblood of commerce. Without credit commerce has no elasticity. So bring the hat and coat, and later on we will thresh this matter out thoroughly.”</p>
 			<p>And then this woman showed a baseness of soul, a horrible low cunning which, I like to think, is rarely seen in the female sex.</p>
 			<p>“I’ll either have the money,” she said, “or I’ll keep the coat and hat.” And words cannot express, Corky, the hideous malignity in her voice. “They ought to fetch a bit.”</p>
 			<p>I stared at her, appalled.</p>
@@ -186,7 +186,7 @@
 			<p>Anyway, here he was, and I peered down at him with a beating heart. For what sent a thrill through me, Corky, was the fact that he was much about my build and was brightly clad in correct morning costume, with top hat complete. And though it was hard to tell exactly at such a distance and elevation, the thought flashed across me like an inspiration from above that that top hat would fit me a dashed sight better than Tuppy’s had done.</p>
 			<p>In another minute there was a knock on the door, and he came in.</p>
 			<p>Seeing him at close range, I perceived that I had not misjudged this man. He was shortish, but his shoulders were just about the same size as mine, and his head was large and round. If ever, in a word, a bloke might have been designed by Providence to wear a coat and hat that would fit me, this bloke was that bloke. I gazed at him with a gleaming eye.</p>
-			<p>“<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Ukridge?”</p>
+			<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Ukridge?”</p>
 			<p>“Yes,” I said. “Come in. Awfully good of you to call.”</p>
 			<p>“Not at all.”</p>
 			<p>And now, Corky, as you will no doubt have divined, I was, so to speak, at the crossroads. The finger post of prudence pointed one way, that of love another. Prudence whispered to me to conciliate this bloke, to speak him fair, to comport myself toward him as toward one who held my destinies in his hand and who could, if well disposed, give me a job which would keep the wolf from the door while I was looking round for something bigger and more attuned to my vision and abilities.</p>