She had been a sort of challenge to him, because of her aloofness, her indifference.
Women were his profession, and here was a queer outlandish one whom it would be amusing to parade as his.

So he had set to work; he had a sense of art, he could talk with ingenuity on artistic matters, and he had flattered Joan by doing so; but always with a certain definite laughter and contempt for her.

Now her beauty rather swept him off his feet.

He looked at her in amazement.

Why this change?
And--the second question for ever in his mind--how could he profit by it?
"I don't understand," he said slowly, feeling his way.