Our room was on the second floor, tucked away at the end of the hall. Similarly to most of the rooms at the Monhegan House, it was sparsely filled. Ours had a double and a single bed with each a wonderfully, thick comforter that made it a struggle even for me, a notoriously early riser, to hit the floor running on a drizzly morning. A nightstand between the beds, this standing lamp, a bare bones wooden chair, a small dresser and a tiny dry sink filled the room. The walls were washed a ghostly, pale white with not a hint of a frame gracing them. Givin the look of most of the delightful corners in this old hotel, it would have been a nice touch to have a couple of items hanging. The curtained windows reminded me of the lace that hung on Coyle Street. Now, there are quite a few rooming houses to stay a few days in, but this one has the right look and feel of an island house for us. You could do a lot worse, 12 miles out to sea in the Atlantic.