Explore "C. I. D" by Talbot Mundy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You should have been the Unknown Soldier."
From the British Residency, where a Union Jack drooped dismally on a pole from which sun and rain had flaked most of the paint, to the Rajah's palace, where damp-chilled and disgusted sepoys stood on guard before the pretentious iron gate, was a mile and a half. There was an avenue of trees, then winding, cobbled streets--a maze of narrow-fronted, mostly two-storied houses with flat roofs, built around tiny courtyards in which the hot-weather life of the city was lived. But during the monsoon most of the life was indoors, where it grew shrill and irritable --over-crowded.