Sitting in the NY offices of Olympia one day, Maurice Girodias looked up from his copy of the Pleasure Bound trilogy, and said to his assistant--"boat, mais of course, but it cannot be this old boat; non! We must, yes, combine something, ah, the religion, yo-ho, the Southern religion, and the boat. And the hypocrisy, yes! And that will be our book. And we shall call it, the Sex of Angels, for our book will tie the religion of the South, and the boat, and the hypocrisy. Have it written by someone. I go now to meet a girl for lunch." And so this book happened. Or at least, we'd like to think so. But we're not sure if the assistant ever got paid for putting it together.