"Too soon to tell yet," replied Gwen cautiously. "I shall know better at the end of a week."
"You've not had a very charming reception so far, have you? I saw how Rachel and Edith were behaving at dinner."
"I don't care!" snapped Gwen. "I don't want to talk to them, thanks! The Form can please itself whether it's friendly or leaves me alone as far as I'm concerned."
Netta whistled softly. There was a rather inscrutable expression on her face.
"All the same I suppose you don't always want to go on being a kind of leper and outlaw? Not very interesting, I should say, to come to school every day and speak to nobody!"
Gwen was silent. She had no argument to advance.
"They're annoyed with you just at present for being moved into our Form, but they can't keep it up long. In a little while they'll feel accustomed to you and you'll get on all right. Then the question is, are you going to belong to the Saints or the Sinners?"
"What do you mean?" asked Gwen.
"We're all one or other here. We call Hilda Browne and Iris Watson and Louise Mawson and Rachel Hunter and Edith Arnold and a few more 'the Saints'."
"Nothing very saintly about them that I can see!" sniffed Gwen.