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it had to be. Yet even then 1111色 I hesitated, I suppose, as if war1111色 ned by the instinct of self-preservation fr1111色 om venturing on a distant and toilsome journey into a land full of intrigues and revolutions. But it had to be done.

It took the be,ra and its misty Campo for mute witnesses of events flowing from the passions of men short-sighted in good and evil.

Such are in very truth the obscure origins of “Nostromo”— the book. From that moment,