1 It was in the midst of her secret great passion that she met him.
2 The hopelessness of it colored it with the lofty tones of a great passion.
3 When alone she sometimes picked it up and kissed the cold glass passionately.
4 She would sometimes gather them passionately to her heart; she would sometimes forget them.
5 In a sweeping passion she seized a glass vase from the table and flung it upon the tiles of the hearth.
6 He kissed her with a degree of passion which had not before entered into his caress, and strained her to him.
7 But the very passions themselves were aroused within her soul, swaying it, lashing it, as the waves daily beat upon her splendid body.
8 They were not insurmountable; they would not hold if he really loved her; they could not hold against her own passion, which he must come to realize in time.
9 She felt somewhat like a woman who in a moment of passion is betrayed into an act of infidelity, and realizes the significance of the act without being wholly awakened from its glamour.
10 She grew fond of her husband, realizing with some unaccountable satisfaction that no trace of passion or excessive and fictitious warmth colored her affection, thereby threatening its dissolution.
11 Meanwhile Robert, addressing Mrs Pontellier, continued to tell of his one time hopeless passion for Madame Ratignolle; of sleepless nights, of consuming flames till the very sea sizzled when he took his daily plunge.