Mr. Prior, as he came up to make his bow, noticed that His Majesty's hands were so thin that the diamond ring that he wore on the third finger of the hand that caressed the dog had slipped round till the rose was towards the palm.
He looked at the young secretary without interest.
"From The Hague?" he asked, and his voice was broken to a whisper with his unceasing asthma.
Mr. Prior went on one knee and handed the letter with which he had been charged. William motioned him to put it on the table by the wineglasses.
"Nothing of importance, eh?" he said.
"I think not, sire; it was merely to ask instructions as to how matters were to be arranged with Monsieur Heinsius with regard to the Spanish questions——"
"Let that wait," returned the King indifferently. He leant forward and took up his wineglass. "How do you like our house of Loo, Mr. Prior?"
"I think it worthy of Your Majesty."
"The gardens are at their finest," remarked William languidly.
Mr. Prior rose and awaited commands; but the King seemed to quickly forget his presence, and the other gentlemen took no notice of him at all; most of them were far gone in wine, and William was drinking heavily—a new thing, for he had ever been the most moderate of men and intolerant of excess in others.