You forget that this is Whitechapel. For all that we have done here, she is still the merciless bitch of the east. Whitechapel is life. In all its wild and rotten splendour. Beside it, the rest of the world seems a tomb. It is rotten and wild. It is heaving, and pitiless, and ignorant…And yet I have seen nowhere to match it. It is our heartland, Bennet Drake. It is our life’s work, Edmund Reid.