Either 13 Read this extract, and then answer the question that follows it: Removing her eyes from him, she sat so long looking silently towards the town, that he said, at length: 'Are you consulting the chimneys of the Coketown works, Louisa?' 'There seems to be nothing there, but languid and monotonous smoke. Yet when the night comes, Fire bursts out, father!' she answered, turning quickly. 'Of course I know that, Louisa. I do not see the application of the remark.' To do him justice he did not, at all. She passed it away with a slight motion of her hand, and concentrating her attention upon him again, said, 'Father, I have often thought that life is very short.' - This was so distinctly one of his subjects that he interposed: 'It is short, no doubt, my dear. Still, the average duration of human life is proved to have increased of late years. The calculations of various life assurance and annuity offices, among other figures which cannot go wrong, have established the fact.' 'I speak of my own life, father.' 'O indeed? Still,' said Mr Gradgrind, 'I need not point out to you, Louisa, that it is governed by the laws which govern lives in the aggregate.' 'While it lasts, I would wish to do the little I can, and the little I am fit for. What does it matter!' Mr Gradgrind seemed rather at a loss to understand the last four words; replying, 'How, matter? What, matter, my dear?' 'Mr Bounderby,' she went on in a steady, straight way, without regarding this, 'asks me to marry him. The question I have to ask myself is, shall I marry him? That is so, father, is it not? You have told me so, father. Have you not?' 'Certainly, my dear.' 'Let it be so. Since Mr Bounderby likes to take me thus, I am satisfied to accept his proposal. Tell him, father, as soon as you please, that this was my answer. Repeat it, word for word, if you can, because I should wish him to know what I said.' 'It is quite right, my dear,' retorted her father, approvingly, 'to be exact. I will observe your very proper request. Have you any wish, in reference to the period of your marriage, my child?' 'None, father. What does it matter!' Mr Gradgrind had drawn his chair a little nearer to her, and taken her hand. But, her repetition of these words seemed to strike with some little discord on his ear. He paused to look at her, and, still holding her hand, said: 'Louisa, I have not considered it essential to ask you one question, because the possibility implied in it appeared to me to be too remote. But, perhaps I ought to do so. You have never entertained in secret any other proposal?' 'Father,' she returned, almost scornfully, 'what other proposal can have been made to me? Whom have I seen? Where have I been? What are my heart's experiences?' 'My dear Louisa,' returned Mr Gradgrind, reassured and satisfied, 'you correct me justly. I merely wished to discharge my duty.' 'What do I know, father,' said Louisa in her quiet manner, ‘of tastes and fancies; of aspirations and affections; of all that part of my nature in which such light things might have been nourished? What escape have I had from problems that could be demonstrated, and realities that could be grasped?' As she said it, she unconsciously closed her hand, as if upon a solid object, and slowly opened it as though she were releasing dust or ash. [from Book 1 Chapter 15]