The Serpent and the Sea
The river did not care that Thomas Ashford was British. It flowed through the delta with the indifference of something ancient, carrying silt from the Himalayas to the Bay of Bengal without thought for the man standing on its bank in a white suit that was already stained with mud. It was 1850, and Thomas was twenty-five, fresh from Sandhurst, fresh from England, fresh from the comforting...
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