Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

needless, obscene—but I think it made us both feel a
little better to say it.
Setting aside her needlework, Miss Peregrine rose
and hobbled to the window. Her gait was rigid and
awkward, as if one of her legs were shorter than the
other.
She looked out at the yard, at the kids playing. “The
children mustn’t hear of this,” she said. “Not yet, at
least. It would only upset them.”
“Okay. Whatever you think.”
She stood quietly at the glass for a while, her
shoulders trembling. When she finally turned to face
me again, she was composed and businesslike.
“Well, Mr. Portman,” she said briskly, “I think you’ve
been adequately interrogated. You must have
questions of your own.”
“Only about a thousand.”
She pulled a watch from her pocket and consulted
it. “We have some time before supper-hour. I hope
that will prove sufficient to enlighten you.”
Miss Peregrine paused and cocked her head.
Abruptly, she strode to the sitting room door and
threw it open to find Emma crouched on the other
side, her face red and streaked with tears. She’d
heard everything.
“Miss Bloom! Have you been eavesdropping?”
Emma struggled to her feet, letting out a sob.
“Polite persons do not listen to conversations that
were not meant for—” but Emma was already running
from of the room, and Miss Peregrine cut herself short
with a frustrated sigh. “That was most unfortunate. I’m
afraid she’s quite sensitive as regards your
grandfather.”
“I noticed,” I said. “Why? Were they …?”
“When Abraham left to fight in the war, he took all
our hearts with him, but Miss Bloom’s especially. Yes,
they were admirers, paramours, sweethearts.”