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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 447/751
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Sansa
was
so
startled
that
for
a
moment
she
was
speechless
.
Finally
she
found
her
voice
.
"
What
about
my
dress
?
"
"
Maybe
...
I
could
wash
it
,
"
Arya
said
doubtfully
.
"
Washing
wo
n't
do
any
good
,
"
Sansa
said
.
"
Not
if
you
scrubbed
all
day
and
all
night
.
The
silk
is
ruined
.
"
"
Then
I
'll
...
make
you
a
new
one
,
"
Arya
said
.
Sansa
threw
back
her
head
in
disdain
.
"
You
?
You
could
n't
sew
a
dress
fit
to
clean
the
pigsties
.
"
Their
father
sighed
.
"
I
did
not
call
you
here
to
talk
of
dresses
.
I
'm
sending
you
both
back
to
Winterfell
.
"
For
the
second
time
Sansa
found
herself
too
stunned
for
words
.
She
felt
her
eyes
grow
moist
again
.
"
You
ca
n't
,
"
Arya
said
.
"
Please
,
Father
,
"
Sansa
managed
at
last
.
"
Please
do
n't
.
"
Eddard
Stark
favored
his
daughters
with
a
tired
smile
.
"
At
last
we
've
found
something
you
agree
on
.
"
