Seated, with her needlework or netting apparatus, at the window, she had a self-laudatory sense of correcting, by her ladylike deportment, the rude business aspect of the place.
In the evening, young women sat around the table, displaying their needlework, gazing at Vega (the second-brightest star in the northern hemisphere) and praying for a good husband and a happy life.
Those words made her sad. Syrio used to say that too, Arya remembered. He said it all the time. Syrio Forel had taught her needlework and died for her. " I don't want to leave" .