As she approached it she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. When she had returned from her walk over Wimbledon Common and encountered Ratnadatta in the hall, she had been wearing the elaborate make-up which she had always used since turning herself into Margot Mauriac. Her recent tears had played havoc with it, and the mascara eye-shadow now ran in streaks down her cheeks. Realizing that if she met anyone in the corridor or on the stairs it was important that she should appear calm and normal, she turned away from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. There she quickly bathed her eyes and removed the ravages to her face. It was as well that she had done so before starting to dress, otherwise she would have been caught red-handed getting into her clothes; for, as she stepped back into the bedroom, its other door opened, and Honorius came in.

Over her arm she had a star-spangled mantle of transparent veiling; in one hand she carried a pair of silver sandals and a mask and, in the other, a wine-glass half full of yellow liquid. Thankful for her narrow escape, Mary slipped back into bed, while the Priestess draped the mantle across the back of a chair, set down the mask and sandals and came over to her. Holding out the glass to her, she said:

'Abaddon is very distressed about your being so upset. You played your part with Mr. X so well that we quite thought you had recovered from the shock you received before he arrived. But, of course, the effect of shock often does not show till later. Anyway, Abaddon is most anxious that you should thoroughly enjoy our great feast tonight, so he has sent you up this cordial.'

'What is it?' Mary asked, eying the glass with suspicion.

'It is one of our secret preparations, and has wonderful properties. Half-an-hour or so after you have taken it, you will feel marvellously refreshed, right on top of the world, and ready for anything.

Between a quarter-past seven and eight o'clock, Mary had had two glasses of the Delphic wine while with Ratnadatta out on the terrace, and another soon after she got into bed. They had warmed her up and done much to counter her anxieties, giving her at intervals an almost carefree feeling. But Abaddon's attack on her had dissipated their effect, destroying in her entirely the excited expectation which had resigned her mind to accepting the possibility that Mr. X might be tempted to try conclusions with her. Now, she felt sure that the golden liquid contained another and much stronger aphrodisiac, and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment. Shaking her head, she said:

'No thank you. I'd rather not. I've just bathed my face and I feel better already. I shall be quite all right by ten o'clock.'

'Perhaps; but this will make you feel better still. Come, drink it up.'