Then I confided to her the fact that I doped a turtle named "Pink Toes" to win the next day, but he went over the fence after a loose bunch of grass and I lose $23,680.
She wanted to know what I meant by dope, and I told her it generally meant a sour dream, but she didn't seem to grab.
When we got to the track they were bunching the bones for the first race, so I told Clara Jane I thought I'd crawl down to the ring and plaster two or three thousand around among the needy.
Two or three thousand, and me with nothing but a five-spot in my jeans and the return ticket money in that!
"Are you really going to bet?" she asked.
"Sure!" I said; "I've got a pipe!"
"Well, I hope you won't smoke it near me. I hate pipes!" she said.
"All right; I'll take my pipe down to the betting ring and smoke it there!" I said, and we parted good friends.
In front of the grand stand I met Nash Martinetti.
He was holding a bunch of poppies and he picked out one in the first race and handed it to me.