He had gone once to call on Mel Iden.

Mel Iden was all soul.

Whatever had been the facts of her downfall--and reflection on that hurt Lane so strangely he could not bear it--it had not been on her part a matter of sex.

She was far above wantonness.
Through long hours in the dark of night, when Lane's pain kept him sleepless, he had pondered over the mystery of Mel Iden until it cleared.

She typified the mother of the race.