The Garden of Resurrection by E. Temple Thurston

I have never yet determined to my satisfaction whether Life be / merely the spinning of a coin or a great scheme working itself / towards completion by a series of steps, undeviating in their perfect / arithmetical progression.

I know it matters little, one way or the other. The thought only / recurred to my mind by reason of the fact that had that bell been rung / only four times, I should not have answered it. But it was rung five, / whereupon it came to me in speculation that no tradesman would have / such patience as that and, rising from my chair, I went into the hall. / When I opened the door, there stood Clarissa.