Silence between them. The deadly statistical clock very hollow. The distant smoke very black and heavy.

“Father,” said Louisa, “do you think I love Mr. Bounderby?”

Mr. Gradgrind was extremely discomfited by this unexpected question. “Well, my child,” he returned, “I⁠—really⁠—cannot take upon myself to say.”

“Father,” pursued Louisa in exactly the same voice as before, “do you ask me to love Mr. Bounderby?”

“My dear Louisa, no. No. I ask nothing.”

“Father,” she still pursued, “does Mr. Bounderby ask me to love him?”