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ing his face, he would utter the usual exordium of his remorse斗罗大陆平凡文学less wisdom: “Vous autres gentilhommes!” in a caustic tone that hangs on my ea斗罗大陆平凡文学r斗罗大陆平凡文学 yet. Like Nostromo! “You hombres finos!” Very much like Nostromo. But Dominic the Corsican nursed a certain pride of ancestry from which my Nostromo is free; for Nostromo’s lineage had to be more ancient still. He is a man with the weight of countless generations,