Update semantics

src/epub/text/colophon.xhtml

@@ -19,7 +19,7 @@
 			by<br/>
 			<a href="https://alexcabal.com">Alex Cabal</a>,<br/>
 			and is based on a transcription produced in 2005 by<br/>
-			<b class="name">Suzanne Shell</b>, <b class="name">Beth Trapaga</b>, <b class="name">Charles Franks</b>, <b class="name">Chuck Greif</b>, and <a href="https://www.pgdp.net">The Online Distributed Proofreading Team</a><br/>
+			<b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">Suzanne Shell</b>, <b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">Beth Trapaga</b>, <b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">Charles Franks</b>, <b epub:type="z3998:personal-name">Chuck Greif</b>, and <a href="https://www.pgdp.net">The Online Distributed Proofreading Team</a><br/>
 			for<br/>
 			<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8492">Project Gutenberg</a><br/>
 			and on digital scans available at<br/>

src/epub/text/the-repairer-of-reputations.xhtml

@@ -67,13 +67,13 @@
 				<p>When he had double-locked the door and pushed a heavy chest against it, he came and sat down beside me, peering up into my face with his little light-coloured eyes. Half a dozen new scratches covered his nose and cheeks, and the silver wires which supported his artificial ears had become displaced. I thought I had never seen him so hideously fascinating. He had no ears. The artificial ones, which now stood out at an angle from the fine wire, were his one weakness. They were made of wax and painted a shell pink, but the rest of his face was yellow. He might better have revelled in the luxury of some artificial fingers for his left hand, which was absolutely fingerless, but it seemed to cause him no inconvenience, and he was satisfied with his wax ears. He was very small, scarcely higher than a child of ten, but his arms were magnificently developed, and his thighs as thick as any athlete’s. Still, the most remarkable thing about <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wilde was that a man of his marvellous intelligence and knowledge should have such a head. It was flat and pointed, like the heads of many of those unfortunates whom people imprison in asylums for the weak-minded. Many called him insane, but I knew him to be as sane as I was.</p>
 				<p>I do not deny that he was eccentric; the mania he had for keeping that cat and teasing her until she flew at his face like a demon, was certainly eccentric. I never could understand why he kept the creature, nor what pleasure he found in shutting himself up in his room with this surly, vicious beast. I remember once, glancing up from the manuscript I was studying by the light of some tallow dips, and seeing <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wilde squatting motionless on his high chair, his eyes fairly blazing with excitement, while the cat, which had risen from her place before the stove, came creeping across the floor right at him. Before I could move she flattened her belly to the ground, crouched, trembled, and sprang into his face. Howling and foaming they rolled over and over on the floor, scratching and clawing, until the cat screamed and fled under the cabinet, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wilde turned over on his back, his limbs contracting and curling up like the legs of a dying spider. He <em>was</em> eccentric.</p>
 				<p><abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wilde had climbed into his high chair, and, after studying my face, picked up a dog’s-eared ledger and opened it.</p>
-				<p>“Henry <abbr class="name">B.</abbr> Matthews,” he read, “bookkeeper with Whysot Whysot and Company, dealers in church ornaments. Called April 3rd. Reputation damaged on the racetrack. Known as a welcher. Reputation to be repaired by August 1st. Retainer five dollars.” He turned the page and ran his fingerless knuckles down the closely-written columns.</p>
-				<p>“<abbr class="name">P.</abbr> Greene Dusenberry, Minister of the Gospel, Fairbeach, New Jersey. Reputation damaged in the Bowery. To be repaired as soon as possible. Retainer one hundred dollars.”</p>
+				<p>“Henry <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">B.</abbr> Matthews,” he read, “bookkeeper with Whysot Whysot and Company, dealers in church ornaments. Called April 3rd. Reputation damaged on the racetrack. Known as a welcher. Reputation to be repaired by August 1st. Retainer five dollars.” He turned the page and ran his fingerless knuckles down the closely-written columns.</p>
+				<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">P.</abbr> Greene Dusenberry, Minister of the Gospel, Fairbeach, New Jersey. Reputation damaged in the Bowery. To be repaired as soon as possible. Retainer one hundred dollars.”</p>
 				<p>He coughed and added, “Called, April 6th.”</p>
 				<p>“Then you are not in need of money, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wilde,” I inquired.</p>
 				<p>“Listen,” he coughed again.</p>
-				<p>“<abbr>Mrs.</abbr> <abbr class="name">C.</abbr> Hamilton Chester, of Chester Park, New York City. Called April 7th. Reputation damaged at Dieppe, France. To be repaired by October 1st. Retainer five hundred dollars.</p>
-				<p>“Note.⁠—<abbr class="name">C.</abbr> Hamilton Chester, Captain <abbr class="initialism">U.S.S.</abbr> <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Avalanche</i>, ordered home from South Sea Squadron October 1st.”</p>
+				<p>“<abbr>Mrs.</abbr> <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">C.</abbr> Hamilton Chester, of Chester Park, New York City. Called April 7th. Reputation damaged at Dieppe, France. To be repaired by October 1st. Retainer five hundred dollars.</p>
+				<p>“Note.⁠—<abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">C.</abbr> Hamilton Chester, Captain <abbr class="initialism">U.S.S.</abbr> <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Avalanche</i>, ordered home from South Sea Squadron October 1st.”</p>
 				<p>“Well,” I said, “the profession of a Repairer of Reputations is lucrative.”</p>
 				<p>His colourless eyes sought mine, “I only wanted to demonstrate that I was correct. You said it was impossible to succeed as a Repairer of Reputations; that even if I did succeed in certain cases it would cost me more than I would gain by it. Today I have five hundred men in my employ, who are poorly paid, but who pursue the work with an enthusiasm which possibly may be born of fear. These men enter every shade and grade of society; some even are pillars of the most exclusive social temples; others are the prop and pride of the financial world; still others, hold undisputed sway among the ‘Fancy and the Talent.’ I choose them at my leisure from those who reply to my advertisements. It is easy enough, they are all cowards. I could treble the number in twenty days if I wished. So you see, those who have in their keeping the reputations of their fellow-citizens, I have in my pay.”</p>
 				<p>“They may turn on you,” I suggested.</p>

src/epub/text/the-street-of-our-lady-of-the-fields.xhtml

@@ -299,7 +299,7 @@
 				<p>“Well,” said Clifford, “his idea of the dangerous woman is probably a painted Jezabel.”</p>
 				<p>“Probably,” replied the other.</p>
 				<p>“He’s a trump!” said Clifford, “and if he swears the world is as good and pure as his own heart, I’ll swear he’s right.”</p>
-				<p>Elliott rubbed his charcoal on his file to get a point and turned to his sketch saying, “He will never hear any pessimism from Richard Osborne <abbr class="name eoc">E.</abbr>”</p>
+				<p>Elliott rubbed his charcoal on his file to get a point and turned to his sketch saying, “He will never hear any pessimism from Richard Osborne <abbr epub:type="z3998:personal-name" class="eoc">E.</abbr>”</p>
 				<p>“He’s a lesson to me,” said Clifford. Then he unfolded a small perfumed note, written on rose-coloured paper, which had been lying on the table before him.</p>
 				<p>He read it, smiled, whistled a bar or two from “Miss Helyett,” and sat down to answer it on his best cream-laid notepaper. When it was written and sealed, he picked up his stick and marched up and down the studio two or three times, whistling.</p>
 				<p>“Going out?” inquired the other, without turning.</p>

src/epub/text/the-street-of-the-first-shell.xhtml

@@ -30,7 +30,7 @@
 				<p>“Don’t forget to clean your palette.”</p>
 				<p>He said, “All right,” and picking up the palette, sat down upon the floor in front of the stove. His head and shoulders were in the shadow, but the firelight fell across his knees and glimmered red on the blade of the palette-knife. Full in the firelight beside him stood a colour-box. On the lid was carved,</p>
 				<blockquote class="inscription">
-					<p><abbr class="name">J.</abbr> Trent.<br/>
+					<p><abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">J.</abbr> Trent.<br/>
 					École des Beaux Arts.<br/>
 					1870.</p>
 				</blockquote>