"If you'll kindly give me the key, I can go in and wait for him." Mr.Tredgold took it from a drawer.

"If you will allow me, I will go down with you," he said, slowly; "the lock is rather awkward for anybody who doesn't understand it." The girl murmured something about not troubling him.
"It's no trouble," said Mr.Tredgold, taking up his hat.

"It is our duty to do all we can for the comfort of our tenants.

That lock--" He held the door open and followed her into the street, pointing out various objects of interest as they went along.
"I'm afraid you'll find Binchester very quiet," he remarked.
"I like quiet," said his companion.
Mr.Tredgold glanced at her shrewdly, and, pausing only at the jubilee horse-trough to point out beauties which might easily escape any but a trained observation, walked on in silence until they reached their destination.
Except in the matter of window-blinds, Dialstone Lane had not changed for generations, and Mr.Tredgold noted with pleasure the interest of his companion as she gazed at the crumbling roofs, the red-brick doorsteps, and the tiny lattice windows of the cottages.

At the last house, a cottage larger than the rest, one side of which bordered the old churchyard, Mr.Tredgold paused and, inserting his key in the lock, turned it with thoughtless ease.
"The lock seems all right; I need not have bothered you," said Miss Drewitt, regarding him gravely.
"Ah, it seems easy," said Mr.Tredgold, shaking his head, "but it wants knack." The girl closed the door smartly, and, turning the key, opened it again without any difficulty.