It was a weekday, but in Stockholm all traffic led to church while flags of all nations fluttered against the blue of Swedish skies.
From the palace to church, to the City Cathedral went King Gustav V, incredibly tall, hiding a princely reticence behind a beard, under a high-hat, beneath a long-coat, a stand-up collar, a glittering pincenez. With him rode his Queen, golden-haired in buxom middle age.
From the best hotels rode ecclesiastics of the U. S. and other strong-currencied nations.
From mean boarding houses walked poor Greeks and other underpaid theologs.
All 625...
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