翻訳
翻訳お願いいたします。
some time later, when the new marriage had settled into a routine, people wondered if the piano tuner would begin to think about retiring. With a bad knee, and being sightless in old age, he would readily have been forgiven in the house and the convents and the school halls where he applied his skill. Leisure was his due, the good fortune of company as his years sipped by no more than he deserved. But when, occasionally, this was put to him by the loquacious or the inquisitive he denide that anything of the kind was in his thoughts, that he considered only the visitation of depth as bringing any kind of end.
The truth was, he would be lost without his work, without his travelling about, his arrival every six months or so in one of the small towns to which he had offered his services for so long. No, no, he promised, they'd still see the white Vauxhall turning in at a farm gate or parked for harf an hour in a convent play-yard, or drawn up on a verge while he ate his lunch time sandwhiches, his tea poured out of a Thermos by his wife.
