This coming child was too much for her.

If it were not for William and Annie, she was sick of it, the struggle with poverty and ugliness and meanness.
She went into the front garden, feeling too heavy to take herself out, yet unable to stay indoors.

The heat suffocated her.

And looking ahead, the prospect of her life made her feel as if she were buried alive.
The front garden was a small square with a privet hedge.

There she stood, trying to soothe herself with the scent of flowers and the fading, beautiful evening.