Richard Foreman

“understand. Self-preservation should, quite rightly, eclipse any amorous feelings she harbours for me,” Varro argued, as he anxiously played with some dice in his hand and shuffled a little, in an attempt to sit more comfortably on the bench. He often carried the ivory, gold-spotted dice in his hands when he went out into the garden, read in the library or drank in the house. Sometimes he would practise rolling them, as he tried to devise a system of securing the score he desired. Just when he thought he had mastered a technique he would then throw several scores counter to his wishes. Good luck runs through one’s hands quicker than sand or water. The corners were becoming rounded and the gold was beginning to fade on the dice. But still he played on.  “Do you think it’s for the best, to send her away?” “I dare”
― Richard Foreman, Blood & Honour