Her face was very close, and he heard her say, almost sobbingly: "And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, and he felt her sweet warm touch.
In those moments Kazan did not move.

He scarcely breathed.

It seemed a long time before the girl lifted her face from him.

And when she did, there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, his hands gripped tight, his jaws set.
"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he said in a tense wondering voice.

"Move back quietly, Isobel.