As far as the palaces of the rich stretch through Mayfair and Belgravia and South Kensington, so far (and farther) must the hovels of the poor inevitably stretch in the opposite direction. There is no escape. It is useless to talk about better housing of these unfortunates unless you strike at the root of their poverty, and if you want to see the origin and explanation of an East London rookery, you must open the door and walk in upon some fashionable dinner-party at the West End, where elegance, wealth, ease, good grammar, politeness and literary and sentimental conversation only serve to cover up and conceal a heartless mockery — the lie that it is a fine thing to live upon the labor of others.
— EDWARD CARPENTER, England's Ideal, pp. 7-8.
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