"You are a public character," he said indifferently.
"Has Peter been talking about me?"
"Yes. He speaks of you."
"But not in this fashion. Peter believes in me, over head and ears."
"Yes. He believes in you. I wish he didn't."
"Ah!" MacLeod drew a deep breath. "My daughter! Do you know my daughter?"
The question was too quick, and Osmond quivered under the assault of it. He felt the blood in his face. His heart choked him. And MacLeod's eyes were upon him.
"Do you know her?" MacLeod was asking sharply.
"Yes," Osmond heard himself answering, in a moved voice. "I have seen her."
MacLeod spoke with what seemed to the other man an insulting emphasis. Yet Osmond had not time to calm himself by the reminder that he was not used to hearing Rose spoken of at all as mortal woman. In his dreams she was something more than that.