For the remainder of the ride
they talked across Jasmine about the price of onions, and where the
cheapest bacon was to be purchased, and they both breathed a sigh of
relief when she stepped out into the rain and they could once more
expand themselves in the space which she had occupied.
Meanwhile the forlorn little adventurer walked down the narrow path of
this celebrated Row. It was still raining heavily, and Jasmine's
umbrella had several rents in its canopy. Now that she was so close to
her destination she began to feel strangely nervous, and many fears
hitherto unknown beset her. Suppose, after all, _The Joy-bell_ which
contained the first portion of her story had not had a large success;
suppose, after all, the public were not so delighted with her flowing
words. Perhaps the editor would receive her very coldly, and would
tell her what a loss her story had been, and how indisposed he felt to
go on with it. If this was the case she never, never would have
courage to ask him to give her Poppy's wages. If the editor scolded
her she felt that she would be incapable of saying a word in her own
defence. Nay, she thought it extremely probable that then and there
she would burst into tears.
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