Chapter fourteen
Cranchar the Cranchu carousesWhen she was in a hurry Delia used needle and thread in a fine free way. Her stitches were uneven, rambling, usually overlarge, generous in the amount of material she expected them to deal with. When she had the time — which was pretty damn-well never, by Vox! — she could make herself be a fine seamstress. Then her stitches were marvels of neatness and exactitude, cunning in their beauty.
Now, with the silver tissue on her knees, her head on one side, and her face puckered up into a scowl, she made herself put in neat, precise stitching. An open window in the small room she and Sissy shared let a gentle zephyr play on her half-naked body. Sissy was washing her hair in the corner, making a tremendous fuss with spilled water and splashed suds,
