How she made Helen writhe and moan!
The dewdrops of agony were not long in making their appearance on the victim's forehead—great, large drops, which rolled off and down her face to make room for others.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Tige, showing her teeth like a snarling dog; "oh-ho! don't I love this! Groan and moan and twist and squirm; it is all a feast to me."
And Helen suffered so much that she would have hailed death as a welcome release.
Aye, she even prayed that she might die.
She had nothing to hope for; rescue she thought impossible, or it would have been accomplished before this. To die would be the easiest way for her.
"There, how did that feel?"
Tige asked the question with a chuckle, as she ripped another nail out of the living flesh.
Feel!
Helen was writhing in anguish.