There was a mirror on the wall in front of her.

The face in it was not her own, which was round and pink.

It was the face of a woman who was used to giving orders. Desiderata wasn't the sort to give orders. Quite the reverse, in fact.

The woman said, "You are dying, Desiderata."

"I am that, too."

"You've grown old. Your sort always do. Your power is nearly gone."

"That's a fact, Lilith," said Desiderata mildly.

"So your protection is withdrawing from her."

" ‘Fraid so," said Desiderata.

"So now it's just me and the evil swamp woman. And I will win."

"That's how it seems, I'm afraid."

"You should have found a successor."

"Never had the time. I'm not the planning sort, you know."

The face in the mirror got closer, as if the figure had moved a little nearer to its side of the mirror.

"You've lost, Desiderata Hollow."

"So it goes." Desiderata got to her feet, a little unsteadily, and picked up a cloth.

The figure seemed to be getting angry. It clearly felt that people who had lost ought to look downcast, and not as if they were enjoying a joke at your expense.

"Don't you understand what losing means?"

"Some people are very clear about that," said Desiderata. "Goodbye, m'lady." She hung the cloth over the mirror.

There was an angry intake of breath, and then silence.

Desiderata stood as if lost in thought.

Then she raised her head, and said: "Kettle boiled just now. Would you like a cup of tea?"