deliver. And it does—stepping into this central gallery, the ceiling lifts by what feels like a full foot, and the proportions shift from Cary's disciplined compression into something more generous, more midwestern in its spatial confidence, the kind of unhurried volume that Champaign understands instinctively. The hardwood underfoot continues its unbroken run but the grain opens here, planks laid wider as if the house itself is exhaling, while clerestory light from a transverse window washes the upper wall in a warmth that makes the millwork glow rather than merely gleam. This is the passage where formality begins loosening its tie—where the architecture signals that what lies ahead in Charleston will ask you to settle in rather than stand at attention.