The Tip of a Pink Tongue
From Blushes Supplement 6 with Belinda Laine The ‘Hall,’ as Sanderson called it was impeccably clean. Spartan, yes, by which I mean no fitted carpets (except in the Principal’s study and in an adjoining small sitting room thereto which was joyously and optimistically styled a ‘rest room’). The floorboards had a patina of age on them, but were highly polished and with a scattering of mats and thinnish rugs. The windows were large and latticed. Those in my temporary-study-to-be, and in the ‘rest room,’ had venetian blinds. So much quicker wherewith to veil the glass than by drawing curtains. I had six weeks in which — as Sanderson had put it — I could expand my interests. I was down from lecturing in Oxford for that period, anyway, and he was already en route to the Canaries for a holiday, thus leaving me in charge of what he cautiously — but not entirely untruthfully — called a ‘Secretarial Training School.’ The large front doo...