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nor would she ever cease pitying him, for she knew only too well that although he had lived to see her famous he had after all failed in his dearest ambition. He had longed always to immortalize his own name through hers, and in that ambition he had failed, for no one, now, thought of Rosing when they called Varsovina the empress of the dance. He was forgotten; quite forgotten.

"And that," she thought with a sigh, "he would have minded more than anything. Poor, poor Rosing!"

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