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Updated: June 19, 2025
He imagined that he knew what sort of person owned a particular house simply by studying it. Houses, especially old homes, fascinated him and he worshiped trees with the fervor that inspired Joyce Kilmer.
If the poet does not appear a brilliant figure in the business world, he may turn to another field with the confidence that here his race will vindicate him from the world's charges of sluggishness or weakness. He is wont proudly to declare, with Joyce Kilmer, When you say of the making of ballads and songs that it is a woman's work, You forget all the fighting poets that have been in every land.
But it is likely that Joyce Kilmer would only have succeeded in inadvertently bringing the religious singer once more into disrepute. Perhaps a history of art would not square with the repugnance one feels toward such censorship.
Fortune and his own impetuous onslaught upon life cast Kilmer into the rôle of hack journalist: he would have claimed no other title. Out of his glowing and busy brain he drew matter that was never dull, never bitter or petty or slovenly. In the fervent attack and counter-attack, shock and counter-shock of his strenuous days he never forgot his secret loyalty to fine craftsmanship.
"Yes?" queried Berenice, sweetly. "Are there others?" "Of course," assented Mrs. Batjer, remotely. "Kilmer doesn't interest you, I presume." Berenice smiled enigmatically. "You remember Clarissa Faulkner, don't you, Bevy?" pursued Mrs. Batjer. "She married Romulus Garrison." "Perfectly. Where is she now?" "They have leased the Chateau Brieul at Ars for the winter.
Kilmer Duelma was gone also snapped up an acquisition on the part of one of those families who did not now receive her. However, in the drawing-rooms where she still appeared and what were they but marriage markets? one or two affairs did spring up tentative approachments on the part of scions of wealth. They were destined to prove abortive.
Holliday does well to point out that Kilmer was almost unique in this country as a representative of the Bellocian School of Catholic journalism, in which piety and mirth dwell so comfortably together; though he might have mentioned T. A. Daly as an older and subtler master of devout merriment, dipping in his own inkwell rather than in any imported bottles.
She was painting and thinking thinking being her special occupation these days, and her thoughts had been of Braxmar, Cowperwood, Kilmer Duelma, a half-dozen others, as well as of the stage, dancing, painting.
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