Her arms were perfectly bloodless, and to all intents and purposes were dead.
They might almost have been amputated without causing her any pain.
Food was finally brought her by a male attendant, a short, thick-set, bull-headed individual, with the most brutal expressioned face of any that Helen had ever seen.
He released her arms, and then lifted her by the shoulders to a sitting posture on the bed.
Her hands were useless.
She could not raise them, could scarcely more than barely move her fingers.
The attendant laughed gleefully.
"Don't they feel bully, eh?" he said, as he noted Helen's face twitch with pain.
What anguish she presently suffered!
The tingling and burning as the blood began to flow back into her arms were something awful.