"Shall we fire her?" I asked El Greco when I told him about it.
"What for?"
"She's disrupting the work!"
"The work isn't worth a damn anyhow," he said moodily. "We're not getting anywhere, Virgie. If it was only a matter of smooth, predictable rates—But look at her. She's picking up speed! She's dropped five years in the past couple weeks."
"She can stand to drop a lot more," I said, annoyed.
e shrugged. "It depends on where. Her nose? It's shortened to about a fifteen-year-old level now. Facial hair? That's mostly gone. Skin texture? Well, I suppose there's no such thing as a too-immature skin, I mean short of the embryonic capsule, but—Wait a minute."
He was staring at the doorway.