Excerpt from Golden Hill by Francis Spufford, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Hello," he said.

The dark one yawned deliberately. "Zephyra, shut the door," she said.

"Don't do that," said Smith.

"Why not? This is a parlour, sir, not a peep show. The place of business is downstairs. A very little glimpse must suffice you—in proportion to your manners."

"But my curiosity is great."

"How sad for you. Very well. Zephyra, count to three, and then shut the door. —What? Not enough?"

"Never," Smith said. The fair girl dimpled. The African turned back to the candle with a slow shake of the head.

"Gallantry," observed the dark girl, with the air of someone naming a common insect. "Dull."

"My sister thinks everything is dull," broke in the yellow-haired girl. "Everything but a wounding tongue. Or she makes it so. But some of us aren't so sour. Some of us don't take compliments amiss a-purpose. You are a client of Father's, sir? Won't you step in?" A blush had appeared in her cheeks, as she made this speech of defiance. It was apparent that she was very young; maybe only sixteen or seventeen.

"You are kind," said Smith, remaining where he was. "Yet truly, it was not gallantry speaking, I swear, but gluttony. Six weeks I have been at sea, and every wave looking just like the one before, in wet procession. By now my eyes, being starved so long, have as many stomachs as a horse."

The dark sister snorted. "As many—? That is the most grotesque similitude I ever heard."

"And yet it served its purpose."

"None I can perceive."

"To make you smile."

"But I am not smiling."

"I would warrant you did for a moment."

"No; you and your eyes' horses' stomachs are all mistaken. Though I doubt that will stop them vomiting words."

"Now who is grotesque?"

"Your bad habits are catching. You have infected us."

"May I come in, then, and do it more conveniently?"

"We can hear you quite well from where you are."

"Tabitha!" protested the other, and was ignored.

"So, you'd stare as boldly at anything, would you? Any object would do?"

"Sorry: I have it on authority that gallantry is dull."

"Have you come from London, sir?" the fair girl tried again.

"Yes, I have," he said.

"I wonder, do you—do you—have you—perhaps—"

"What my sister Flora wants to say," said dark Tabitha, slipping into a mocking falsetto, "is: 'Do-you-do-you, could-you-could-you, might-you-might-you, possibly have in your baggage any novels?' For she consumes them like laudanum, and has read all that New-York can afford, so must beg new supplies from every traveller."

"Hush!" cried Flora, the spots back in her cheeks.

"I do have a book or two in my trunk," said Smith, "and I would be happy to look them out for you. You don't approve?" he asked Tabitha.

"I am not a great one for novels."

"You are not a great one for anything but grumbling, and poking fun."

"I do not think it makes the bird feel better if the cage has pictures pasted to't, however pretty. Good evening, Papa."

Smith jumped. Lovell had returned on padding feet, a caddy of japanned wood in his hands, and had been standing in the shadows at his side, it was not evident how long, with a speculative look upon his face.

"I see you've met my daughters, sir. Tabitha, Flora, this is Mr. Smith, a man of affairs; just don't ask him what. Well, step in, step in; don't block the door. And just lay what you have in your hands on the tabletop, will you, for I perceive I've made an error, fool that I am."

"How unaccountable of you, Papa," said Tabitha.

Lovell shot her a look, but only said, "Ah, yes..."

The card-dealing began again, except that Lovell was, as well as paying down new paper, also whisking back certain bills he had already dispensed, and replacing them with other, similar scraps of print, equally mysterious. This time, he didn't count aloud, and this time, every note marked "Rhode Island" seemed to return to the box.

Excerpted from Golden Hill by Francis Spufford. Copyright © 2017 by Francis Spufford. Excerpted by permission of Scribner. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.