Update <hgroup> children after first <h#> to <p>, ref. new HTML standard

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@@ -9,7 +9,7 @@
 		<section id="chapter-1" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">I</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Hamiltons</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Hamiltons</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Fiction has said so much in regret of the old days when there were plantations and overseers and masters and slaves, that it was good to come upon such a household as Berry Hamilton’s, if for no other reason than that it afforded a relief from the monotony of tiresome iteration.</p>
 			<p>The little cottage in which he lived with his wife, Fannie, who was housekeeper to the Oakleys, and his son and daughter, Joe and Kit, sat back in the yard some hundred paces from the mansion of his employer. It was somewhat in the manner of the old cabin in the quarters, with which usage as well as tradition had made both master and servant familiar. But, unlike the cabin of the elder day, it was a neatly furnished, modern house, the home of a typical, good-living negro. For twenty years Berry Hamilton had been butler for Maurice Oakley. He was one of the many slaves who upon their accession to freedom had not left the South, but had wandered from place to place in their own beloved section, waiting, working, and struggling to rise with its rehabilitated fortunes.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-10" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">X</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">A Visitor from Home</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">A Visitor from Home</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p><abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Hamilton began to question very seriously whether she had done the best thing in coming to New York as she saw her son staying away more and more and growing always farther away from her and his sister. Had she known how and where he spent his evenings, she would have had even greater cause to question the wisdom of their trip. She knew that although he worked he never had any money for the house, and she foresaw the time when the little they had would no longer suffice for Kitty and her. Realising this, she herself set out to find something to do.</p>
 			<p>It was a hard matter, for wherever she went seeking employment, it was always for her and her daughter, for the more she saw of <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Jones, the less she thought it well to leave the girl under her influence. <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Hamilton was not a keen woman, but she had a mother’s intuitions, and she saw a subtle change in her daughter. At first the girl grew wistful and then impatient and rebellious. She complained that Joe was away from them so much enjoying himself, while she had to be housed up like a prisoner. She had receded from her dignified position, and twice of an evening had gone out for a car ride with Thomas; but as that gentleman never included the mother in his invitation, she decided that her daughter should go no more, and she begged Joe to take his sister out sometimes instead. He demurred at first, for he now numbered among his city acquirements a fine contempt for his woman relatives. Finally, however, he consented, and took Kit once to the theatre and once for a ride. Each time he left her in the care of Thomas as soon as they were out of the house, while he went to find or to wait for his dear Hattie. But his mother did not know all this, and Kit did not tell her. The quick poison of the unreal life about her had already begun to affect her character. She had grown secretive and sly. The innocent longing which in a burst of enthusiasm she had expressed that first night at the theatre was growing into a real ambition with her, and she dropped the simple old songs she knew to practise the detestable coon ditties which the stage demanded.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-11" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XI</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Broken Hopes</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Broken Hopes</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>What Joe Hamilton lacked more than anything else in the world was someone to kick him. Many a man who might have lived decently and become a fairly respectable citizen has gone to the dogs for the want of someone to administer a good resounding kick at the right time. It is corrective and clarifying.</p>
 			<p>Joe needed especially its clarifying property, for though he knew himself a cur, he went away from his mother’s house feeling himself somehow aggrieved, and the feeling grew upon him the more he thought of it. His mother had ruined his chance in life, and he could never hold up his head again. Yes, he had heard that several of the fellows at the club had shady reputations, but surely to be the son of a thief or a supposed thief was not like being the criminal himself.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-12" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">“All the World’s a Stage”</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">“All the World’s a Stage”</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Kitty proved herself Joe’s sister by falling desperately in love with Hattie Sterling the first time they met. The actress was very gracious to her, and called her “child” in a pretty, patronising way, and patted her on the cheek.</p>
 			<p>“It’s a shame that Joe hasn’t brought you around before. We’ve been good friends for quite some time.”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-13" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XIII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Oakleys</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Oakleys</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>A year after the arrest of Berry Hamilton, and at a time when New York had shown to the eyes of his family so many strange new sights, there were few changes to be noted in the condition of affairs at the Oakley place. Maurice Oakley was perhaps a shade more distrustful of his servants, and consequently more testy with them. <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Oakley was the same acquiescent woman, with unbounded faith in her husband’s wisdom and judgment. With complacent minds both went their ways, drank their wine, and said their prayers, and wished that brother Frank’s five years were past. They had letters from him now and then, never very cheerful in tone, but always breathing the deepest love and gratitude to them.</p>
 			<p>His brother found deep cause for congratulation in the tone of these epistles.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-14" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XIV</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Frankenstein</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Frankenstein</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Five years is but a short time in the life of a man, and yet many things may happen therein. For instance, the whole way of a family’s life may be changed. Good natures may be made into bad ones and out of a soul of faith grow a spirit of unbelief. The independence of respectability may harden into the insolence of defiance, and the sensitive cheek of modesty into the brazen face of shamelessness. It may be true that the habits of years are hard to change, but this is not true of the first sixteen or seventeen years of a young person’s life, else Kitty Hamilton and Joe could not so easily have become what they were. It had taken barely five years to accomplish an entire metamorphosis of their characters. In Joe’s case even a shorter time was needed. He was so ready to go down that it needed but a gentle push to start him, and once started, there was nothing within him to hold him back from the depths. For his will was as flabby as his conscience, and his pride, which stands to some men for conscience, had no definite aim or direction.</p>
 			<p>Hattie Sterling had given him both his greatest impulse for evil and for good. She had at first given him his gentle push, but when she saw that his collapse would lose her a faithful and useful slave she had sought to check his course. Her threat of the severance of their relations had held him up for a little time, and she began to believe that he was safe again. He went back to the work he had neglected, drank moderately, and acted in most things as a sound, sensible being. Then, all of a sudden, he went down again, and went down badly. She kept her promise and threw him over. Then he became a hanger-on at the clubs, a genteel loafer. He used to say in his sober moments that at last he was one of the boys that Sadness had spoken of. He did not work, and yet he lived and ate and was proud of his degradation. But he soon tired of being separated from Hattie, and straightened up again. After some demur she received him upon his former footing. It was only for a few months. He fell again. For almost four years this had happened intermittently. Finally he took a turn for the better that endured so long that Hattie Sterling again gave him her faith. Then the woman made her mistake. She warmed to him. She showed him that she was proud of him. He went forth at once to celebrate his victory. He did not return to her for three days. Then he was battered, unkempt, and thick of speech.</p>

src/epub/text/chapter-15.xhtml

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 		<section id="chapter-15" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XV</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">“Dear, Damned, Delightful Town”</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">“Dear, Damned, Delightful Town”</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>When Joe was taken, there was no spirit or feeling left in him. He moved mechanically, as if without sense or volition. The first impression he gave was that of a man overacting insanity. But this was soon removed by the very indifference with which he met everything concerned with his crime. From the very first he made no effort to exonerate or to vindicate himself. He talked little and only in a dry, stupefied way. He was as one whose soul is dead, and perhaps it was; for all the little soul of him had been wrapped up in the body of this one woman, and the stroke that took her life had killed him too.</p>
 			<p>The men who examined him were irritated beyond measure. There was nothing for them to exercise their ingenuity upon. He left them nothing to search for. Their most damning question he answered with an apathy that showed absolutely no interest in the matter. It was as if someone whom he did not care about had committed a crime and he had been called to testify. The only thing which he noticed or seemed to have any affection for was a little pet dog which had been hers and which they sometimes allowed to be with him after the life sentence had been passed upon him and when he was awaiting removal. He would sit for hours with the little animal in his lap, caressing it dumbly. There was a mute sorrow in the eyes of both man and dog, and they seemed to take comfort in each other’s presence. There was no need of any sign between them. They had both loved her, had they not? So they understood.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-16" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XVI</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Skaggs’s Theory</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Skaggs’s Theory</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>There was, perhaps, more depth to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Skaggs than most people gave him credit for having. However it may be, when he got an idea into his head, whether it were insane or otherwise, he had a decidedly tenacious way of holding to it. Sadness had been disposed to laugh at him when he announced that Joe’s drunken story of his father’s troubles had given him an idea. But it was, nevertheless, true, and that idea had stayed with him clear through the exciting events that followed on that fatal night. He thought and dreamed of it until he had made a working theory. Then one day, with a boldness that he seldom assumed when in the sacred Presence, he walked into the office and laid his plans before the editor. They talked together for some time, and the editor seemed hard to convince.</p>
 			<p>“It would be a big thing for the paper,” he said, “if it only panned out; but it is such a rattlebrained, harum-scarum thing. No one under the sun would have thought of it but you, Skaggs.”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-17" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XVII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">A Yellow Journal</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">A Yellow Journal</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Skaggs had no qualms of conscience about the manner in which he had come by the damaging evidence against Maurice Oakley. It was enough for him that he had it. A corporation, he argued, had no soul, and therefore no conscience. How much less, then, should so small a part of a great corporation as himself be expected to have them?</p>
 			<p>He had his story. It was vivid, interesting, dramatic. It meant the favour of his editor, a big thing for the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Universe</i>, and a fatter lining for his own pocket. He sat down to put his discovery on paper before he attempted anything else, although the impulse to celebrate was very strong within him.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-18" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XVIII</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">What Berry Found</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">What Berry Found</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Had not Berry’s years of prison life made him forget what little he knew of reading, he might have read the name Gibson on the doorplate where they told him to ring for his wife. But he knew nothing of what awaited him as he confidently pulled the bell. Fannie herself came to the door. The news the papers held had not escaped her, but she had suffered in silence, hoping that Berry might be spared the pain of finding her. Now he stood before her, and she knew him at a glance, in spite of his haggard countenance.</p>
 			<p>“Fannie,” he said, holding out his arms to her, and all of the pain and pathos of long yearning was in his voice, “don’t you know me?”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-2" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">II</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">A Farewell Dinner</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">A Farewell Dinner</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Maurice Oakley was not a man of sudden or violent enthusiasms. Conservatism was the quality that had been the foundation of his fortunes at a time when the disruption of the country had involved most of the men of his region in ruin.</p>
 			<p>Without giving anyone ground to charge him with being lukewarm or renegade to his cause, he had yet so adroitly managed his affairs that when peace came he was able quickly to recover much of the ground lost during the war. With a rare genius for adapting himself to new conditions, he accepted the changed order of things with a passive resignation, but with a stern determination to make the most out of any good that might be in it.</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-3" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">III</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Theft</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Theft</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>Frank was very pale when his brother finally came to him at the appointed place. He sat limply in his chair, his eyes fixed upon the floor.</p>
 			<p>“Come, brace up now, Frank, and tell me about it.”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-4" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">IV</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">From a Clear Sky</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">From a Clear Sky</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The inmates of the Oakley house had not been long in their beds before Hamilton was out of his and rousing his own little household.</p>
 			<p>“You, Joe,” he called to his son, “git up f’om daih an’ come right hyeah. You got to he’p me befo’ you go to any shop dis mo’nin’. You, Kitty, stir yo’ stumps, miss. I know yo’ ma’s a-dressin’ now. Ef she ain’t, I bet I’ll be aftah huh in a minute, too. You all layin’ ’roun’, snoozin’ w’en you all des’ pint’ly know dis is de mo’nin’ Mistah Frank go ’way f’om hyeah.”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-5" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">V</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">The Justice of Men</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">The Justice of Men</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>The arrest of Berry Hamilton on the charge preferred by his employer was the cause of unusual commotion in the town. Both the accuser and the accused were well known to the citizens, white and black⁠—Maurice Oakley as a solid man of business, and Berry as an honest, sensible negro, and the pink of good servants. The evening papers had a full story of the crime, which closed by saying that the prisoner had amassed a considerable sum of money, it was very likely from a long series of smaller peculations.</p>
 			<p>It seems a strange irony upon the force of right living, that this man, who had never been arrested before, who had never even been suspected of wrongdoing, should find so few who even at the first telling doubted the story of his guilt. Many people began to remember things that had looked particularly suspicious in his dealings. Some others said, “I didn’t think it of him.” There were only a few who dared to say, “I don’t believe it of him.”</p>

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 		<section id="chapter-6" epub:type="chapter">
 			<hgroup>
 				<h2 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">VI</h2>
-				<h3 epub:type="title">Outcasts</h3>
+				<p epub:type="title">Outcasts</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>What particularly irritated Maurice Oakley was that Berry should to the very last keep up his claim of innocence. He reiterated it to the very moment that the train which was bearing him away pulled out of the station. There had seldom been seen such an example of criminal hardihood, and Oakley was hardened thereby to greater severity in dealing with the convict’s wife. He began to urge her more strongly to move, and she, dispirited and humiliated by what had come to her, looked vainly about for the way to satisfy his demands. With her natural protector gone, she felt more weak and helpless than she had thought it possible to feel. It was hard enough to face the world. But to have to ask something of it was almost more than she could bear.</p>
 			<p>With the conviction of her husband the last five hundred dollars had been confiscated as belonging to the stolen money, but their former deposit remained untouched. With this she had the means at her disposal to tide over their present days of misfortune. It was not money she lacked, but confidence. Some inkling of the world’s attitude towards her, guiltless though she was, reached her and made her afraid.</p>