Happy, she scolded herself. You are supposed to look happy. Many of the men complained at their lack of transfer. They wanted to walk the streets of Paris, send expensive perfumes back to wives and girlfriends before they gorged on every delicacy on offer. Poland had no such luxuries, not that appealed to such discerning tastes. It was a country of grey and black, its people hard-pressed to conjure smiles under even the simplest of imperatives. Baelish, too, would remain in Krakow, an invaluable asset who had already wrought such impressive changes within its borders. Sansa felt relief, then a terrible welling of guilt, when he told her.
