Then she sprang to her feet, realising that he was gone and it was too late to recall him.
Why should he go?
she asked herself, as, with trembling hands, she arranged the disorder of her hair.

Then the merely conventional came in, as it will even at such tense moments.

She asked herself how she would look to his sister, if she appeared at this moment; to the maid, who might be expected at any moment bringing in the lamp.

The room was dark but for the firelight.

How would she look, with her tear-stained visage and the disorder of her appearance?
She could not sit and make small talk.