He went from the dining-room to the smoking-room, and there, taking from his pocket a huge case which he always carried, proceeded to light a cigar about eight inches long.  Mr Brown, from the City, was in the room, and Melmotte, with a smile and a bow, offered Mr Brown one of the same.  Mr Brown was a short, fat, round little man, over sixty, who was always endeavouring to give to a somewhat commonplace set of features an air of importance by the contraction of his lips and the knitting of his brows.  It was as good as a play to see Mr Brown jumping back from any contact with the wicked one, and putting on a double frown as he looked at the impudent sinner.  ’You needn’t think so much, you know, of what I said the other night...