By oldliterature on Skatehive
font-weight: bold } .calibre18 { display: block } display: block } .calibre19 { display: block; height: 4em } background: white; display: block; font-size: 1em; padding-left: 0; padding-right: 0; text-align: justify; margin: 0 5pt } .calibre1 { display: block; text-indent: 1em; margin: 0.25em 0 } display: none } .calibre8 { display: block } display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; margin: 1.67em 15% } .calibre14 { font-style: italic } 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 upo