The proprietor looks over her spoils and slides a single brass coin over the counter to her. "Twenty-five pence," he says gruffly. "Take it or leave it." 

That doesn't seem like very much money. But she didn't do very much work, and this is (mostly?) all trash. And also it means the creepy bottle is not her problem any more. "I'll take it," she says, picking up the coin.

She will take a look at what else the shop has on its shelves before leaving.

Everything this shop is selling is far out of her price range. F.F Gebrandt's Superior Laudanum, F.F Gebrandt's Tincture of Vigor, Nikolaus and Sons Instant Ablution Solution, and a variety of various knicknacks including a rather antiquated-looking typewriter. The cheapest items are one echo whole. 

Are there enough decimal points in evidence to discern how much of an echo twenty-five pence is?

Yes; one quarter of an echo. 

Great, so she's officially poor. Better than literally penniless? Time will tell.

She'll make for that clocktower as her next order of business.

The clocktower is not so hard to find, once she fidns the river. A large door in the side of it yawns open, with an urchin standing guard. 

"Oi!" He says when she approaches. "Admittance to th' house of chimes is only for the exceptional friends of Mr. Chimes. Sod off, you, I don't recognize yer." 

House of... Okay, guess that makes sense.

"Sorry, I was looking for the university. Do you know where that is?"

"Oh, it's just to the south along the far bank. Have a looksie for yerself if y' know the way around."

"I don't, in fact. Is there a bridge somewhere?"