She pulled open the desk drawer and got her beret. Then, as she was putting it on, she remembered.
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?"