[His words make her falter as she withdraws her hand from his grip, her smile freezing on her lips - only slightly, but enough for the attentive observer to be able to notice. She hadn't considered their relationship under those terms, but rather under terms with which she's much more familiar. It seems strange to her, for a woman to... provide for herself so directly. For a woman to have an employer, rather than a hoard of lovers, a rich patron. Or a sugar daddy, as Monsieur Meyer had called it. Regaining her composure quickly, however, Marguerite manages a laugh.]

I have had a man who desired to love me unconditionally and now I am faced with one who doesn't desire me at all. You must excuse my confusion.