In the other drawer were the clay models.

She opened the drawer and pulled them out. She had barely reduced them
to a single amorphous lump when Mr. Fredericksohn passed her desk.

"What's that?" he said. "Clay?"

"A nephew of mine," Gloria said coolly. "He likes to play with clay. I
bought some and I'm taking it home."

"Ah," Mr. Fredericksohn said. "Of course. Good night."

And he was gone. Gloria put the clay back into the drawer and reached
for her beret.

Harold Meedy called from across the room: "Going home?"

"That's right," she said.

"Can I charter a bus and drop you somewhere?"

"I'm afraid not," she said. "I've really got to get right home."

"Listen," Harold said. He came over to her desk. "I've been trying to
get somewhere with you ever since you walked into this office. Now,
what's wrong with me? I haven't been able to get to first base. Don't
you like me?"

"Mr. Meedy," Gloria began, "it's just that ... well, I don't believe in
inter-personal relations on that level, not in the office. I'm sorry."

He blinked. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said.

"But--" He shrugged. "O.K. O.K. I just wanted to know."

The door closed behind him. Gloria felt a little relieved. If matters
had gone on the way they'd threatened, why, she might have had to change
Harold Meedy's mind for him. Not that it would have done him any harm,
but ... well, she just didn't like doing that sort of thing for purely
personal reasons.

She was glad she hadn't had to tamper with him at all.

And now it was over, and she could forget about it. Humming under her
breath, she put her beret on at last, and gave the stack of folders a
pat to keep them absolutely neat, before she left the office.

She still felt a little sad about leaving on time, when there was so
much work to be done. But tomorrow, she told herself, she would be able
to get back to helping people. Tomorrow--

* * * * *

Tomorrow.

Ten minutes to nine, and Gloria put her beret away, reached for the
first folder--and froze.

A second later the door opened. Gloria looked up and smiled helpfully.
"Mrs. Wladek," she said. "Is there anything I can do for you? This isn't
your day for--"

"It is not my day," Mrs. Wladek said. She closed the door behind her.
"This, I know. But I am here. Does this mean anything to you?"

Gloria forced her face to remain expressionless. "Can I help you in any
way