Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

We walked through the house, past more curious eyes peeping through door cracks and from behind sofas, and into a sunny sitting room, where on an elaborate Persian rug, in a high-backed chair, a distinguished-looking lady sat knitting. She was dressed from head to toe in black, her hair pinned in a perfectly round knot stop her head, with lace gloves and a high-collected blouse fastened tightly at her throat--as fastidiously neat as the house itself. I could've guessed who she was even if I hadn't remembered her picture from those I'd found in the smashed trunk. This was Miss Peregrine.