It will be some time before I forget it.
It was the Saturday before the August Bank Holiday.

We were tired and hungry, we same three, and when we got to Datchet we took out the hamper, the two bags, and the rugs and coats, and such like things, and started off to look for diggings.

We passed a very pretty little hotel, with clematis and creeper over the porch; but there was no honeysuckle about it, and, for some reason or other, I had got my mind fixed on honeysuckle, and I said: "Oh, don't let's go in there! Let's go on a bit further, and see if there isn't one with honeysuckle over it." So we went on till we came to another hotel.

That was a very nice hotel, too, and it had honey-suckle on it, round at the side; but Harris did not like the look of a man who was leaning against the front door.

He said he didn't look a nice man at all, and he wore ugly boots: so we went on further.