"Didn't you want him to help you ?" Betty did not answer.

She sat on the couch while Mrs.Zane held the little bare foot and slowly poured the hot water over the swollen and discolored ankle.

Betty's lips were pale.

She winced every time Mrs.Zane touched her foot, but as yet she had not uttered even a sigh.
"Betty, does it hurt much ?" asked Isaac.
"Hurt?
Do you think I am made of wood?
Of course it hurts," retorted Betty.

"That water is so hot.