Perhaps you know that 'here' is the same as 'there,' as all these people say.

But whatever it is, I think we might have come almost as near knowing it in New York, if we had only known how to try." "Perhaps it isn't so much knowing," he said, "as it is being where you can't help facing mystery and taking the time to be amazed.
Although," added St.George to himself, "there are things that one finds out in New York.

In a drawing-room, at the Boris, for instance, over muffins and tea." "It will be delightful to take all this back to New York," Olivia vaguely added, as if she meant the fairy palace and the fairy sea.
"It will," agreed St.George fervently, and he couldn't possibly have told whether he meant the mystery of the island or the mystery of that hour there with her.

There was so little difference.
"Suppose," said Olivia whimsically, "that we open our eyes in a minute, and find that we are in the prince's room in McDougle Street, and that he has passed his hand before our faces and made us dream all this.

And father is safe after all." "But it isn't all a dream," St.George said softly, "it can't possibly all be a dream, you know." She met his eyes for a moment.
"Not your coming away here," she said, "if the rest is true I wouldn't want that to be a dream.