"Are you, Brooke?"
"I should like to live," he continued, in a far-off tone, like one soliloquizing, "after having met with you; but if I cannot live, I shall be glad to think that I have ever known you."
Talbot said nothing to this, and there was another long silence.
"By-the-bye," said Brooke, at last, "I should like to tell you something, Talbot, in case you should ever happen to meet with a certain friend of mine—you might mention how you met with me, and so on."
"Yes," said Talbot, in a low voice.
"This friend," said Brooke, "is a girl." He paused.
"Yes," said Talbot, in the same voice.
"It was in Cuba that I met with her. Her name is Dolores."
"Dolores—what?"
"Dolores Garcia."