Sunday at about six o'clock
But a woman is always hampered . At once inert and flexible , she has against her the weakness of the flesh and legal dependence . Her will , like the veil of her bonnet , held by a string , flutters in every wind ; there is always some desire that draws her , some conventionality that restrains . She was confined on a Sunday at about six o'clock , as the sun was rising . `` It is a girl ! '' said Charles . She turned her head away and fainted .