Winnifred wrinkled her nose at the sight of the young woman at work. Jet turning was no work for a woman, and also, she wished it happened elsewhere. The thought of what dust such work created, what dust there had to be in the air, what dust she might get on her person and bring back into her perfectly clean house... It almost made her turn on the spot.

Unfortunately the woman had already seen her and greeted her, and courtesy forced Winnie to straighten her face and approach the dual horror of dust and unwomanly ways.

"Good afternoon. I'm looking for a gift for my mother-in-law. Might I have a look at your brooches?" Involuntarily, her eyes moved back to the machinery and the half finished ornament the woman had been working on and she decided that this was even worse than the fishwives gathering bait with their skirts hoisted halfway up their knees. Worse than ankles!