These clouds brooded, waiting above him; their dazzling white had the effect of a steady, unswerving gaze.
They lined out.

He took his place as centre three-quarter with Cardillac outside left and Tester and Buchan on the other wing.

Old Lawrence was standing, a solid rock of a figure, back.

There was a great crowd present.

The tops of the hansom cabs in the road beyond rose above the wall, and he could hear, muffled with distance, shots from the 'Varsity firing range.
All these things focussed themselves upon his brain in the moment before the whistle went; the whistle blew, the Dublin men had kicked off, Tester had fielded the ball, sent it back into touch, and the game had begun.
This was to be the game of his life and yet he could not centre his attention upon it.