holds in its deeper threshold. Where Quincy offered restraint in its millwork, this room answers with a quiet escalation—the casing widens into something almost ceremonial, and the baseboards thicken by a fraction that the hand notices before the mind, as though the craftsmen understood that passage through this doorway should feel like arrival rather than continuation. Light pools here with a different weight, caught and held by surfaces that seem calibrated to slow one's pace, to reward the lingering gaze the way the best Racine rooms always have, where architecture exists not to impress but to detain. And yet even as the room commands this pause, the far wall confesses a seam of brightness from beyond its edge, a luminous invitation that belongs unmistakably to Richmond and everything it