She would have to make up her mind what she would do, eventually.

Meanwhile, to get away from him, to sit there in the cold, inflexible, insensitive, to obtain a sort of spiritual divorce from him, while she martyrised her body which was wedded to him, that was the young, despotic instinct she obeyed.
"If you won't come," he said, "I suppose it only remains for me to go." He got up, took Anne's cloak from the door where it hung, and put it tenderly about her shoulders.
"Whatever happens or unhappens," he said, "we must be dressed." He found her slippers, and thrust them on her passive feet.

She lay back and closed her eyes.

From the movements that she heard, she gathered that Walter was getting into his clothes.

Once, as he struggled with an insufficiently subservient shirt, he laughed, from mere miserable nervousness.