There were boxes at the theaters, tickets for concerts sent, invitations to drive Sundays or other days.
The very chemistry of life seems to play into the hands of a situation of this kind.

Once Cowperwood was thinking vividly, forcefully, of her, Rita began to think in like manner of him.

Hourly he grew more attractive, a strange, gripping man.

Beset by his mood, she was having the devil's own time with her conscience.

Not that anything had been said as yet, but he was investing her, gradually beleaguering her, sealing up, apparently, one avenue after another of escape.