slt, pouvez vous me traduire ce texte

My father tended to sit silently

indoors now, only going to the labour exchange and the public

assistance committee, because he was more ragged than the most

poverty-stricken tramp I ever encountered. My mother still made

valiant efforts to keep her appearance reasonable so

that she could apply to shops and

offices for work.




One sunny Sunday in March, however,

father decided he could stand the rank atmosphere of the house no

more and he and Brian went for a walk in the town, which was fairly

deserted on Sundays. Father always feared being arrested for

vagrancy, but he hoped police would be few and far

between on this day of rest.




Two hours later, a petrified Brian came

rushing up the stairs and into our living-room, where I was rocking

Edward to sleep in his Chariot. He buried his face in my shoulder.




‘Daddy’s been arrested,’ he

cried.