Donald (H. S. M.) Coxeter
The aroma of antiseptic and crisp sheets mingles with the sooty smell of a small coal-burning fireplace at the end of the infirmary room. Two thirteen-year-old boys are in side-by-side beds, recovering from the flu in their private school’s sickroom.
“Coxeter, how do you imagine time travel would work?” asks John Petrie, one of the boys.
“You mean as in H. G....