[Editorial] sha’n’t -> shan’t

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@@ -92,7 +92,7 @@
 					<p>“It flashed on me instantly that Sir Patrick had discovered the truth. Of course I told him so. He laughed, and said I mustn’t jump at conclusions We were guessing quite in the dark; and all the distressing things I had noticed at the inn might admit of some totally different explanation. He would have gone on splitting straws in that provoking way the whole morning if I hadn’t stopped him. I was strictly logical. I said <em>I</em> had seen Anne, and <em>he</em> hadn’t⁠—and that made all the difference. I said, ‘Everything that puzzled and frightened me in the poor darling is accounted for now. The law must, and shall, reach that man, uncle⁠—and I’ll pay for it!’ I was so much in earnest that I believe I cried a little. What do you think the dear old man did? He took me on his knee and gave me a kiss; and he said, in the nicest way, that he would adopt my view, for the present, if I would promise not to cry any more; and⁠—wait! the cream of it is to come!⁠—that he would put the view in quite a new light to me as soon as I was composed again. You may imagine how soon I dried my eyes, and what a picture of composure I presented in the course of half a minute. ‘Let us take it for granted,’ says Sir Patrick, ‘that this man unknown has really tried to deceive Miss Silvester, as you and I suppose. I can tell you one thing: it’s as likely as not that, in trying to overreach <em>her</em>, he may (without in the least suspecting it) have ended in overreaching himself.’ ”</p>
 					<p>(Geoffrey held his breath. The pen dropped unheeded from his fingers. It was coming. The light that his brother couldn’t throw on the subject was dawning on it at last!)</p>
 					<p>Blanche resumed:</p>
-					<p>“I was so interested, and it made such a tremendous impression on me, that I haven’t forgotten a word. ‘I mustn’t make that poor little head of yours ache with Scotch law,’ my uncle said; ‘I must put it plainly. There are marriages allowed in Scotland, Blanche, which are called Irregular Marriages⁠—and very abominable things they are. But they have this accidental merit in the present case. It is extremely difficult for a man to pretend to marry in Scotland, and not really to do it. And it is, on the other hand, extremely easy for a man to drift into marrying in Scotland without feeling the slightest suspicion of having done it himself.’ That was exactly what he said, Arnold. When <em>we</em> are married, it sha’n’t be in Scotland!”</p>
+					<p>“I was so interested, and it made such a tremendous impression on me, that I haven’t forgotten a word. ‘I mustn’t make that poor little head of yours ache with Scotch law,’ my uncle said; ‘I must put it plainly. There are marriages allowed in Scotland, Blanche, which are called Irregular Marriages⁠—and very abominable things they are. But they have this accidental merit in the present case. It is extremely difficult for a man to pretend to marry in Scotland, and not really to do it. And it is, on the other hand, extremely easy for a man to drift into marrying in Scotland without feeling the slightest suspicion of having done it himself.’ That was exactly what he said, Arnold. When <em>we</em> are married, it shan’t be in Scotland!”</p>
 					<p>(Geoffrey’s ruddy color paled. If this was true he might be caught himself in the trap which he had schemed to set for Anne! Blanche went on with her narrative. He waited and listened.)</p>
 					<p>“My uncle asked me if I understood him so far. It was as plain as the sun at noonday, of course I understood him! ‘Very well, then⁠—now for the application!’ says Sir Patrick. ‘Once more supposing our guess to be the right one, Miss Silvester may be making herself very unhappy without any real cause. If this invisible man at Craig Fernie has actually meddled, I won’t say with marrying her, but only with pretending to make her his wife, and if he has attempted it in Scotland, the chances are nine to one (though <em>he</em> may not believe it, and though <em>she</em> may not believe it) that he has really married her, after all.’ My uncle’s own words again! Quite needless to say that, half an hour after they were out of his lips, I had sent them to Craig Fernie in a letter to Anne!”</p>
 					<p>(Geoffrey’s stolidly-staring eyes suddenly brightened. A light of the devil’s own striking illuminated him. An idea of the devil’s own bringing entered his mind. He looked stealthily round at the man whose life he had saved⁠—at the man who had devotedly served him in return. A hideous cunning leered at his mouth and peeped out of his eyes. “Arnold Brinkworth pretended to be married to her at the inn. By the lord Harry! that’s a way out of it that never struck me before!” With that thought in his heart he turned back again to his half-finished letter to Julius. For once in his life he was strongly, fiercely agitated. For once in his life he was daunted⁠—and that by his own thought! He had written to Julius under a strong sense of the necessity of gaining time to delude Anne into leaving Scotland before he ventured on paying his addresses to <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Glenarm. His letter contained a string of clumsy excuses, intended to delay his return to his brother’s house. “No,” he said to himself, as he read it again. “Whatever else may do⁠—<em>this</em> won’t!” He looked round once more at Arnold, and slowly tore the letter into fragments as he looked.)</p>

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 					<p>“Because,” answered Geoffrey, “you’re all wrong. And Sir Patrick’s right.”</p>
 					<p>Not astonishment only, but downright stupefaction, struck the deputation from the garden speechless.</p>
 					<p>Without saying a word more to any of the persons standing near him, Geoffrey walked straight up to Sir Patrick’s armchair, and personally addressed him. The satellites followed, and listened (as well they might) in wonder.</p>
-					<p>“You will lay any odds, Sir,” said Geoffrey “against me taking my Degree? You’re quite right. I sha’n’t take my Degree. You doubt whether I, or any of those fellows behind me, could read, write, and cipher correctly if you tried us. You’re right again⁠—we couldn’t. You say you don’t know why men like me, and men like them, may not begin with rowing and running and the like of that, and end in committing all the crimes in the calendar: murder included. Well! you may be right again there. Who’s to know what may happen to him? or what he may not end in doing before he dies? It may be another, or it may be me. How do I know? and how do you?” He suddenly turned on the deputation, standing thunderstruck behind him. “If you want to know what I think, there it is for you, in plain words.”</p>
+					<p>“You will lay any odds, Sir,” said Geoffrey “against me taking my Degree? You’re quite right. I shan’t take my Degree. You doubt whether I, or any of those fellows behind me, could read, write, and cipher correctly if you tried us. You’re right again⁠—we couldn’t. You say you don’t know why men like me, and men like them, may not begin with rowing and running and the like of that, and end in committing all the crimes in the calendar: murder included. Well! you may be right again there. Who’s to know what may happen to him? or what he may not end in doing before he dies? It may be another, or it may be me. How do I know? and how do you?” He suddenly turned on the deputation, standing thunderstruck behind him. “If you want to know what I think, there it is for you, in plain words.”</p>
 					<p>There was something, not only in the shamelessness of the declaration itself, but in the fierce pleasure that the speaker seemed to feel in making it, which struck the circle of listeners, Sir Patrick included, with a momentary chill.</p>
 					<p>In the midst of the silence a sixth guest appeared on the lawn, and stepped into the library⁠—a silent, resolute, unassuming, elderly man who had arrived the day before on a visit to Windygates, and who was well known, in and out of London, as one of the first consulting surgeons of his time.</p>
 					<p>“A discussion going on?” he asked. “Am I in the way?”</p>

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@@ -37,7 +37,7 @@
 					<p>“You will never run another.”</p>
 					<p>“And never row in another match?”</p>
 					<p>“Never.”</p>
-					<p>“I have been asked to row in the race, next spring; and I have said I will. Do you tell me, in so many words, that I sha’n’t be able to do it?”</p>
+					<p>“I have been asked to row in the race, next spring; and I have said I will. Do you tell me, in so many words, that I shan’t be able to do it?”</p>
 					<p>“Yes⁠—in so many words.”</p>
 					<p>“Positively?”</p>
 					<p>“Positively.”</p>

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@@ -131,7 +131,7 @@
 					<p>The change in the whole woman was nothing less than dreadful to the loving eyes that rested on her. She looked years older than her real age. There was a dull calm in her face, a stagnant, stupefied submission to anything, pitiable to see. Three days and nights of solitude and grief, three days and nights of unresting and unpartaken suspense, had crushed that sensitive nature, had frozen that warm heart. The animating spirit was gone⁠—the mere shell of the woman lived and moved, a mockery of her former self.</p>
 					<p>“Oh, Anne! Anne! What <em>can</em> have happened to you? Are you frightened? There’s not the least fear of anybody disturbing us. They are all at luncheon, and the servants are at dinner. We have the room entirely to ourselves. My darling! you look so faint and strange! Let me get you something.”</p>
 					<p>Anne drew Blanche’s head down and kissed her. It was done in a dull, slow way⁠—without a word, without a tear, without a sigh.</p>
-					<p>“You’re tired⁠—I’m sure you’re tired. Have you walked here? You sha’n’t go back on foot; I’ll take care of that!”</p>
+					<p>“You’re tired⁠—I’m sure you’re tired. Have you walked here? You shan’t go back on foot; I’ll take care of that!”</p>
 					<p>Anne roused herself at those words. She spoke for the first time. The tone was lower than was natural to her; sadder than was natural to her⁠—but the charm of her voice, the native gentleness and beauty of it, seemed to have survived the wreck of all besides.</p>
 					<p>“I don’t go back, Blanche. I have left the inn.”</p>
 					<p>“Left the inn? With your husband?”</p>

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@@ -38,10 +38,10 @@
 					<p>“Nothing. Have you made any discoveries, Sir Patrick?”</p>
 					<p>“None. I got to the station before the train. No signs of Miss Silvester anywhere. I have left Duncan on the watch⁠—with orders not to stir till the last train has passed tonight.”</p>
 					<p>“I don’t think she will turn up at the station,” said Arnold. “I fancy she has gone back to Craig Fernie.”</p>
-					<p>“Quite possible. I am now on my way to Craig Fernie, to make inquiries about her. I don’t know how long I may be detained, or what it may lead to. If you see Blanche before I do tell her I have instructed the stationmaster to let me know (if Miss Silvester does take the railway) what place she books for. Thanks to that arrangement, we sha’n’t have to wait for news till Duncan can telegraph that he has seen her to her journey’s end. In the meantime, you understand what you are wanted to do here?”</p>
+					<p>“Quite possible. I am now on my way to Craig Fernie, to make inquiries about her. I don’t know how long I may be detained, or what it may lead to. If you see Blanche before I do tell her I have instructed the stationmaster to let me know (if Miss Silvester does take the railway) what place she books for. Thanks to that arrangement, we shan’t have to wait for news till Duncan can telegraph that he has seen her to her journey’s end. In the meantime, you understand what you are wanted to do here?”</p>
 					<p>“Blanche has explained everything to me.”</p>
 					<p>“Stick to your post, and make good use of your eyes. You were accustomed to that, you know, when you were at sea. It’s no great hardship to pass a few hours in this delicious summer air. I see you have contracted the vile modern habit of smoking⁠—that will be occupation enough to amuse you, no doubt! Keep the roads in view; and, if she does come your way, don’t attempt to stop her⁠—you can’t do that. Speak to her (quite innocently, mind!), by way of getting time enough to notice the face of the man who is driving her, and the name (if there is one) on his cart. Do that, and you will do enough. Pah! how that cigar poisons the air! What will have become of your stomach when you get to my age?”</p>
-					<p>“I sha’n’t complain, Sir Patrick, if I can eat as good a dinner as you do.”</p>
+					<p>“I shan’t complain, Sir Patrick, if I can eat as good a dinner as you do.”</p>
 					<p>“That reminds me! I met somebody I knew at the station. Hester Dethridge has left her place, and gone to London by the train. We may feed at Windygates⁠—we have done with dining now. It has been a final quarrel this time between the mistress and the cook. I have given Hester my address in London, and told her to let me know before she decides on another place. A woman who <em>can’t</em> talk, and a woman who <em>can</em> cook, is simply a woman who has arrived at absolute perfection. Such a treasure shall not go out of the family, if I can help it. Did you notice the Bechamel sauce at lunch? Pooh! a young man who smokes cigars doesn’t know the difference between Bechamel sauce and melted butter. Good afternoon! good afternoon!”</p>
 					<p>He slackened the reins, and away he went to Craig Fernie. Counting by years, the pony was twenty, and the pony’s driver was seventy. Counting by vivacity and spirit, two of the most youthful characters in Scotland had got together that afternoon in the same chaise.</p>
 					<p>An hour more wore itself slowly out; and nothing had passed Arnold on the crossroads but a few stray foot-passengers, a heavy wagon, and a gig with an old woman in it. He rose again from the heather, weary of inaction, and resolved to walk backward and forward, within view of his post, for a change. At the second turn, when his face happened to be set toward the open heath, he noticed another foot-passenger⁠—apparently a man⁠—far away in the empty distance. Was the person coming toward him?</p>

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 					<p>“Oh? That’s all?” said Geoffrey still looking at Blanche. “Beg your pardon again. Deuced long walk, and deuced heavy dinner. Natural consequence⁠—a nap.”</p>
 					<p>Sir Patrick eyed him closely. It was plain that he had been honestly puzzled at finding himself an object of special attention on Blanche’s part. “See you in the billiard-room?” he said, carelessly, and followed his companions out of the room⁠—as usual, without waiting for an answer.</p>
 					<p>“Mind what you are about,” said Sir Patrick to his niece. “That man is quicker than he looks. We commit a serious mistake if we put him on his guard at starting.”</p>
-					<p>“It sha’n’t happen again, uncle,” said Blanche. “But think of <em>his</em> being in Anne’s confidence, and of <em>my</em> being shut out of it!”</p>
+					<p>“It shan’t happen again, uncle,” said Blanche. “But think of <em>his</em> being in Anne’s confidence, and of <em>my</em> being shut out of it!”</p>
 					<p>“In his friend’s confidence, you mean, my dear; and (if we only avoid awakening his suspicion) there is no knowing how soon he may say or do something which may show us who his friend is.”</p>
 					<p>“But he is going back to his brother’s tomorrow⁠—he said so at dinnertime.”</p>
 					<p>“So much the better. He will be out of the way of seeing strange things in a certain young lady’s face. His brother’s house is within easy reach of this; and I am his legal adviser. My experience tells me that he has not done consulting me yet⁠—and that he will let out something more next time. So much for our chance of seeing the light through <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Delamayn⁠—if we can’t see it in any other way. And that is not our only chance, remember. I have something to tell you about Bishopriggs and the lost letter.”</p>

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 					<p>“<em>Must</em> you?” cried her ladyship, in a tone of touching remonstrance. “Oh, Sir Patrick, <em>must</em> you?”</p>
 					<p>“Yes. I must.”</p>
 					<p>Lady Lundie’s magnificent eyes looked up at that hidden court of human appeal which is lodged in the ceiling. The hidden court looked down at Lady Lundie, and saw⁠—Duty advertising itself in the largest capital letters.</p>
-					<p>“Go on, Sir Patrick. The motto of woman is self-sacrifice. You sha’n’t see how you distress me. Go on.”</p>
+					<p>“Go on, Sir Patrick. The motto of woman is self-sacrifice. You shan’t see how you distress me. Go on.”</p>
 					<p>Sir Patrick went on impenetrably⁠—without betraying the slightest expression of sympathy or surprise.</p>
 					<p>“I was about to refer to the nervous attack from which Blanche has suffered this morning,” he said. “May I ask whether you have been informed of the cause to which the attack is attributable?”</p>
 					<p>“There!” exclaimed Lady Lundie with a sudden bound in her chair, and a sudden development of vocal power to correspond. “The one thing I shrank from speaking of! the cruel, cruel, cruel behavior I was prepared to pass over! And Sir Patrick hints on it! Innocently⁠—don’t let me do an injustice⁠—innocently hints on it!”</p>

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 					<p>“Show me where you run, I’m dying to see it!” said the eager widow, taking possession of Geoffrey’s arm with both hands.</p>
 					<p>Geoffrey led her back to a place (marked by a sapling with a little flag attached to it) at some short distance from the cottage. She glided along by his side, with subtle undulations of movement which appeared to complete the exasperation of Perry. He waited until she was out of hearing⁠—and then he invoked (let us say) the blasts of heaven on the fashionably-dressed head of <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Glenarm.</p>
 					<p>“You take your place there,” said Geoffrey, posting her by the sapling. “When I pass you⁠—” He stopped, and surveyed her with a good-humored masculine pity. “How the devil am I to make you understand it?” he went on. “Look here! when I pass you, it will be at what you would call (if I was a horse) full gallop. Hold your tongue⁠—I haven’t done yet. You’re to look on after me as I leave you, to where the edge of the cottage wall cuts the trees. When you have lost sight of me behind the wall, you’ll have seen me run my three hundred yards from this flag. You’re in luck’s way! Perry tries me at the long sprint today. You understand you’re to stop here? Very well then⁠—let me go and get my toggery on.”</p>
-					<p>“Sha’n’t I see you again, Geoffrey?”</p>
+					<p>“Shan’t I see you again, Geoffrey?”</p>
 					<p>“Haven’t I just told you that you’ll see me run?”</p>
 					<p>“Yes⁠—but after that?”</p>
 					<p>“After that, I’m sponged and rubbed down⁠—and rest in the cottage.”</p>