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his half-ironic devotion. Many of Nostromo’s speeches I have heard first in Dominic’s voice. His hand on the tiller and his featxt龙腾小说网rless eyes roaming the horizon ftxt龙腾小说网rom within the monkish hootxt龙腾小说网d shadowing his face,ty, he would utter the usual exordium of his remorseless wisdom: “Vous autres gentilhommes!” in a caustic tone that hangs on my ear yet. Like Nostromo! “You hombres finos!” Very much like Nostromo. But Dominic the Cor,