Rogers came haring in, swearing fit to turn the air blue.
“You’re all right!” he exclaimed, clearly astonished not to find her lying in a crumpled heap.
“But of course I am,” she replied in that calm voice of hers, and she retrieved her handbag from the drawer in her desk, prepared to evacuate with the rest of us, while our bomb squad went through to make sure there were no more nasty surprises.
Rogers burst into laughter, which, quite frankly, sounded a trifle desperate to me. “You sit there like Dido among the ruins…”
She flashed him a look that quickly smoothed to indifference and walked by without sparing him a further glance.
The tale had run through the squad and then through the rest of NS3, affording much relief in the aftermath of the reminder of those deadly years, and for a short time, it became the thing to address Miss Travis as “Dido.”