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Show The Fiction NO REGRETS Corner at sight of Polly Hayden talking with his stable boy. HER EYES blazed at him. "Sol The good loser. The man who can lose everything, who will have to spend the rest of his life paying his racing debts and still smile! Oh, what a fool I've been!" "Wait a minute! Listen!" He caught at her arm but she jerked away. He followed her out to her car. "You've got to listen," he said desperately, getting in beside her. "I only did it because I thought it would make you feel better. And it worked. I meant it when I said I was through with racing. I've sold I'm-a-Runnin' to Colonel Strat-ton. Strat-ton. Look!" He held out the bill of sale and the check. She stared at him round-eyed, frightened. "Oh, yon it : ; hare! Klrby, you si : j You'll never be able I e :: yon love horses. Any ti- . see that. Yon Imti I Ennnln'.' "Not half as much wltetr-j he told her soberly. He put i; . j around her. "You befee -don't you? You must believe:. "Darling, of course I do. '- I am glad that you're going a respectable lawyer, only-fc- "Only what?" "Well sometime, liter been respectable for i toi-while, toi-while, we'll buy another t won't we? A horse ai p I'm-a-Runnin'? Because love horses, don't we?" I "We do," Kirby agreed i:r- KIRBY FOUND the girl seated on an upturned box behind the stables sta-bles crying. He hesitated, feeling awkward, then said: "Hello. Anything wrong?" She looked up quickly, apprais-ingly. apprais-ingly. "No, please go away." Instead, Kirby I squatted on his 3 -Minute heels. "You Fiction must have lost I some money on that last race. Black Fox fooled every one by not coming in. I lost too." "I suppose I'm a baby to cry, but I couldn't help it. I we father and I staked everything on Black Fox. Then that terrible I'm-a-Runnin', who nobody thought had a chance, had to win." She hesitated, (Jabbing at her eyes. He seemed like a nice young man. And she did so want company com-pany and to talk . . . He discovered her name was Polly Hayden. The next day he called at her house and met her father, a jolly faced old gentleman with white walrus moustaches. "We really shouldn't feel so badly," Polly told her father after the introductions were over. "Kirby lost a lot more than we and he in't complaining at all." That night PoUy and Kirby had dinner at a little inn out on the Tamiami trail. He knew she was wondering when and how he was going to pay his racing debts, and where he was going to get the money to establish himself in the law business. You just can't hang out a shingle in Miami and expect business at once. But he didn't offer the information. informa-tion. The next day he hired an office on Flagler street, then called up Col. Stratton and asked that racing enthusiast to meet him at Hialeah. "Colonel," he said over a sandwich sand-wich and coffee an hour later, "I'm going to take you up on the offer you made me for I'm-a-Runnin'. He's yours for $50,000." The colonel stared, "Now wait a minute, Kirby. Has the horse died or broken a leg or something?" "Nothing of the sort," Kirby laughed. "I'm quitting racing for good. It's no business for an energetic ener-getic young lawyer to be wasting his time at I hired an office this morning." They went out to the stables and looked at I'm-a-Runnin'. The colonel couldn't understand it, but he wrote his check for $50,000 and the papers were passed. Conscious of a queer sensation in the pit of his stomach Kirby headed back for the stables for a last farewell. Outside I'm-a-Runnin's stall he stopped deaa still |