He eyed her. “You thought him greedy.” “No man accumulates all that he did by chance. Yet I would not call it greed, exactly, for he scarcely knew all he held, and a greedy man numbers each coin.” “What would you call it, then?” Ista’s brows pinched in. “Consolation,” she tried at last. “His possessions were a magic mirror, to reflect him the size he wished to be.”
