Deronda could not help looking toward the door from the back with some anxiety, which was not soothed when he saw a vigorous woman beyond fifty enter and approach to serve him. Not that there was anything very repulsive about her: the worst that could be said was that she had that look of having made her toilet with little water, and by twilight, which is common to unyouthful people of her class, and of having presumably slept in her large earrings, if not in her rings and necklace. In fact, what caused a sinking of heart in Deronda was her not being so coarse and ugly as to exclude the idea of her being Mirah’s mother. Any one who has looked at a face to try and discern signs of known kinship in it will understand his process of conjecture—how he tried to think away the fat which had gradually disguised the outlines of youth, and to discern what one may call the elementary expressions of the face. He was sorry to see no absolute negative to his fears. Just as it was conceivable that this Ezra, brought up to trade, might resemble the scapegrace father in everything but his knowledge and talent, so it was not impossible that this mother might have had a lovely refined daughter whose type of feature and expression was like Mirah’s. The eyebrows had a vexatious similarity of line; and who shall decide how far a face may be masked when the uncherishing years have thrust it far onward in the ever-new procession of youth and age? The good-humor of the glance remained and shone out in a motherly way at Deronda, as she said, in a mild guttural tone, “How can I serve you, sir?” “I should like to look at the silver clasps in the window,” said Deronda; “the larger ones, please, in the corner there.” They were not quite easy to get at from the mother’s station, and the son seeing this called out, “I’ll reach ’em, mother; I’ll reach ’em,” running forward with alacrity, and then handing the clasps to Deronda with the smiling remark, “Mother’s too proud: she wants to do everything herself. That’s why I called her to wait on you, sir. When there’s a particular gentleman customer, sir, I daren’t do any other than call her. But I can’t let her do herself mischief with stretching.” Here Mr. Cohen made way again for his parent, who gave a little guttural, amiable laugh while she looked at Deronda, as much as to say, “This boy will be at his jokes, but you see he’s the best son in the world,” and evidently the son enjoyed pleasing her, though he also wished to convey an apology to his distinguished customer for not giving him the advantage of his own exclusive attention. Deronda began to examine the clasps as if he had many points to observe before he could come to a decision. “They are only three guineas, sir,” said the mother, encouragingly. “First-rate workmanship, sir—worth twice the money; only I get ’em a bargain from Cologne,” said the son, parenthetically, from a distance.