Until now, the boat had barely held her own, and had hovered about one spot; but now, the banks changed swiftly, and the deepening shadows and the kindling lights of London Bridge were passed, and the tiers of shipping lay on either hand.
It was not until now that the upper half of the man came back into the boat.

His arms were wet and dirty, and he washed them over the side.

In his right hand he held something, and he washed that in the river too.
It was money.

He chinked it once, and he blew upon it once, and he spat upon it once,--'for luck,' he hoarsely said--before he put it in his pocket.
'Lizzie!' The girl turned her face towards him with a start, and rowed in silence.
Her face was very pale.

He was a hook-nosed man, and with that and his bright eyes and his ruffled head, bore a certain likeness to a roused bird of prey.
'Take that thing off your face.' She put it back.
'Here! and give me hold of the sculls.