It was clear that Ginger Jukes did not realize where he was or what he was up against.
X
Ginger and the Sailor drove to the ground of the Blackhampton Rovers on the roof of a two-horse bus. It was a long way from the Central Station, but they had time in hand; the match did not begin until half-past two, and it was only a little after one at present. As together they made what both felt to be as fateful a journey as they would ever take in the whole course of their lives, their emotions were many and conflicting.
"There y'are, young feller." Ginger pointed to a hoarding on which a chocolate and blue poster was displayed. In spite of his religion of Cucumber, the thrill in his voice was perceptible. "There's a bill of the match."
"Who are we p-playin'?" stammered the Sailor, half choked by a sudden rush of emotion that threatened to unman him.
"Can't yer read?"
"No," gasped the Sailor.
"No?" gasped Ginger.
"I—I mean, I can't see very well."