I rushed to untie the sash that bound the girl to the post. But she glared at me with furious eyes. “What do you think you’re doing? No one asked for your help!” I stared at her in surprise. “If I’m not tied up when she comes back, she’ll torture me again.” I felt as if I had been slapped in the face. Even if she was untied, she couldn’t escape from the environment that bound her to that post. For her, other people’s sympathy was of no value at all. Pity was only a source of more trouble. “Hurry and tie me up again,” she said with so much ferocity I thought she might bite me. I did as she told
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