Afraid.

Down the broad stairs, Stranger to cares, My love comes tripping and smiling and free; The snows on her breast Are a blush unconfessed. I wonder what fate has in waiting for me?

My heart seems to throb Like a broken-paced cob; I fear I'm a coward in love, as they say. She's commencing to laugh; How the fellows will chaff. By Jove, I'm not going to ask her to-day.