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"How could you possibly wish to risk dirtying your hands with something like this?" Ned asked. "Are you not still bound for the clergy, Sin?"
"That, my friend is a two part question that I must answer in kind," Simon replied. "While my dear devout mother would have me join the church, I have searched deeply and cannot summon an inkling of pious sentiment. Moreover, my natural inclination to licentiousness is decidedly incompatible with a theological vocation. With my two great passions being poetry and women of easy virtue, not necessarily in that order, I fear all combines to make me an exceedingly poor candidate for the clergy.
"This now leads to part two. Why would I dirty my hands? The sad truth is that I am in need of the money."
"Money? But you receive a more than adequate allowance."
"Most of which he squanders on entertaining the aforementioned women of easy virtue," DeVere laughed.
"Admittedly," Simon confessed, unabashed. "And now my father has not only reduced my quarterly allowance, but demands a full account of every ha'penny. I tell you, it is humiliating in the extreme. Unless I wish to live under such a yoke for the next three years, which I positively do not, I must find a way to make my living, and if I must travail for my bread, what better way than by the fruits of my pen?"
"How better indeed," Ned replied dryly. "So now you combine these passions for poetry and lewd woman by writing poetry about lewd women?"
"Precisely!" Simon clapped Ned on the back. "Don't you see the ironic beauty of it? This venture with Harris is the perfect solution"
"What do you suppose will happen when your dear devout Mama gets wind of it?" Ned asked.
"My parents will never know anything about it, for I have taken every precaution to ensure my anonymity. Only you, DeVere and Harris are privy to my identity." He retrieved the book from DeVere. "My contribution to this little work is, and shall forever remain, a well-kept secret."