Then she lifted up his mustache till the lip curled in a dreadful mechanical smile, showing a slightly crooked, slightly prominent tooth.
"Oh, what an ugly tooth!" said Mrs.Nevill Tyson; and she let the lip fall again like a curtain.

"How could I marry a man with a tooth like that! Do you know, poor papa used to say you were just like Phorc--Phorc--something with a fork in it." "Phorcyas ?" "Yes.

How clever you are! Who was Phorc-y-as ?" Mrs.Nevill Tyson made a face over the word.
"It's another name for Mephistopheles." (Tyson knew his Goethe better than his classics.) "And Mephistopheles is another name for--the devil! Oh!" She took the tips of his ears with the tips of her fingers and held his head straight while she stared into his eyes.

"Look me straight in the face now.

No blinking.