A FOOL IN SPOTS.
CHAPTER I.
TWO ARTISTS.
They were seated tete-a-tete at a dinner table.
"Tell me why you have never married, Milburn," and the steel eyes in Willard Frost's face searched through his glasses.
Robert Milburn's answer was a shrug, and a long cloud of smoke blown back at the glowing end of his cigar.
"Tell me why," persisted the keen-eyed Frost.
"Because it is too expensive a luxury; besides, a man who has affianced a career like mine must take that for his bride," was Robert's answer.
"Admitting there is warmth and color in some of your artistic creations, old fellow, I should think you would find these scarcely available of winter nights, eh?"
Robert laughed; his laugh was short, though, and bitter. He had taken keen pleasure in the cynical
