Joe Kent greeted him uneasily. "What's the matter, Ed? You look like a wild dog. Is something — ?"
Ed studied Joe. He was different. Not the same. What was it?
Joe's face. It was a little fuller. His shirt was blue-striped. Joe never wore blue stripes. Ed examined Joe's desk. He saw papers and accounts. The desk — it was too far to the right. And it was bigger. It wasn't the same desk.
The picture on the wall. It wasn't the same. It was a different picture entirely. And the things on top of the file cabinet — some were new, others were gone.
He looked back through the door. Now that he thought about it, Miss Evans' hair was different, done a different way. And it was lighter.
In here, Mary, filing her nails, over by the window — she was taller, fuller. Her purse, lying on the desk in front of her — a red purse, red knit.
"You always. . have that purse?" Ed demanded.
Mary glanced up. "What?"
"That purse. You always have that?"
Mary laughed. She smoothed her skirt coyly around her shapely thighs, her long lashes blinking modestly. "Why, Mr Fletcher. What do you mean?"