"I must try something else." For Mr.Denner had some small superstitions, and it is doubtful if he would have questioned fate again in the same way, even if he had not been interrupted at that moment by the rector.
Dr.Howe came into the office beating his hands to warm them, his face ruddy and his breath short from a walk in the cold wind.

He had come to see the lawyer about selling a bit of church land; Mr.Denner hastily slipped his penny into his pocket, and felt his face grow hot as he thought in what a posture the rector would have found him had he come a few minutes sooner.
"Bless my soul, Denner," Dr.Howe said, when, the business over, he rose to go, "this den of yours is cold!" He stooped to shake the logs in the small stove, hoping to start a blaze.

The rector would have resented any man's meddling with his fire, but all Mr.Denner's friends felt a sort of responsibility for him, which he accepted as a matter of course.
"Ah, yes," replied Mr.Denner, "it is chilly here.

It had not occurred to me, but it is chilly.

Some people manage to keep their houses very comfortable in weather like this.