Kings, he had said--of France, or somewhere...

A gold ring he wore on his left hand slipped from his finger and jingled on the hearthstone.

It was too big for him, and when his fingers grew small with cold or wet it was apt to fall off.
He picked it up and laid it beside the decanters on the table.

That had been his father's ring, and he congratulated himself that in all his necessities he had never parted from it.

It was said to have come down from ancient kings.
He turned to the table and cut himself a slice of ham.