th much confidence in
the customer's admiration. Deronda, looking at the grandmother, who had
only an inward silent laugh, said--

"Are these the only grandchildren you have?"

"All. This is my only son," she answered in a communicative tone,
Deronda's glance and manner as usual conveying the impression of
sympathetic interest--which on this occasion answered his purpose well.
It seemed to come naturally enough that he should say--

"And you have no daughter?"

There was an instantaneous change in the mother's face. Her lips closed
more firmly, she looked down, swept her hands outward on the counter,
and finally turned her back on Deronda to examine some Indian
handkerchiefs that hung in pawn behind her. Her son gave a significant
glance, set up his shoulders an instant and just put his fingers to his
lips,--then said quickly, "I think you're a first-rate gentleman in the
city, sir, if I may be allowed to guess."

"No," said Deronda, with a preoccupied air, "I have nothing to do with
the city."

"That's a bad job. I thought you might be the young principal of a
first-rate firm," said Mr. Cohen, wishing to make amends for the check
on his customer's natural desire to know more of him and his. "But you
understand silver-work, I see."

"A little," said Deronda, taking up the clasps a moment and laying them
down again. That unwelcome bit of circumstantial evidence had made his
mind busy with a plan which was certainly more like acting than
anything he had been aware of in his own conduct before. But the bare
possibility that more knowledge might nullify the evidence now
overpowered the inclination to rest in uncertainty.

"To tell you the truth," he went on, "my errand is not so much to buy
as to borrow. I dare say you go into rather heavy transactions
occasionally."

"Well, sir, I've accommodated gentlemen of distinction--I'm proud to
say it. I wouldn't exchange my business with any in the world. There's
none more honorable, nor more charitable, nor more necessary for all
classes, from the good lady who wants a little of the ready for the
baker, to a gentleman like yourself, sir, who may want it for
amusement. I like my business, I like my street, and I like my shop. I
wouldn't have it a door further down. And I wouldn't be without a
pawn-shop, sir, to be the Lord Mayor. It puts you in connection with
the world at large. I say it's like the government revenue--it embraces
the brass as well as the gold of the co