He represents a great
financial house, and that, in our day, is as good as anything else.
For an American, at any rate, that will do very well. But I persist in
thinking your cousin very lucky to have a chronic malady so long as he
doesn't die of it. It's much better than the snuff-boxes. If he
weren't ill, you say, he'd do something?- he'd take his father's place
in the house. My poor child, I doubt it; I don't think he's at all
fond of the house. However, you know him better than I, though I
used to know him rather well, and he may have the benefit of the
doubt. The worst case, I think, is a friend of mine, a countryman of
ours, who lives in Italy (where he also was brought before he knew
better), and who is one of the most delightful men I know. Some day
you must know him. I'll bring you together and then you'll see what
I mean. He's Gilbert Osmond- he lives in Italy; that's all one can say
about him or make of him. He's exceedingly clever, a man made to be
distinguished; but, as I tell you, you exhaust the description when
you say he's Mr. Osmond who lives tout betement in Italy. No career,
no name, no position, no fortune, no past, no future, no anything.
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