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Show Page 17 when I looked up he turned his eyes seaward. "You have your wish," I told Anne. "Richard Kean was just now looking your way." "Goodness!" said Anne, shamefaced, when she looked to where he stood. "Though I know it was you he looked upon, I am most embarrassed. We should have found a more private place to search out our vermin." "You think the man has no lice in his cabin to make him miserable?" I asked. "I've no doubt they are there," giggled Anne, recovering her good humor, "but I doubt even a louse would dare impose its presence upon the person of Richard Kean without an invitation." "Aye, he has such an air of strength of confidence about his person he makes me feel uneasy. Methinks a louse would feel the same." "But do you not think him handsome?" asked Anne. We sat peering at the man from under our brows. I fear we were not very subtle. "He seems to be all juts and slopes," I told her. "But look how his hair-it is close in color to your tawny tresses, Sarah-curls back off his forehead so finely." "But that forehead is pitched backward like a rooftop," I protested. "And his mustache curls upward as though to call attention to his jutting cheekbones." "His nose is straight and strong," said Anne, trying to |