"Anything approaching the change that came over his features I have never seen before, and hope never to see again. It was as though a veil had been rent. I saw on that furry visage the expression of somber pride, of ruthless power, of craven terror -- of an intense and hopeless despair. He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision--he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath-- 
 "'The honey! The honey!' 
 "I blew the candle out and left the cabin. Tigger and Eeyore were dining in the messroom, and I took my place opposite Christopher Robin, who lifted his eyes to give me a questioning glance, which I successfully ignored. He leaned back, serene, with that peculiar smile of his sealing the unexpressed depths of his meanness. A continuous shower of small flies streamed upon the lamp, upon the cloth, upon our hands and faces. Suddenly the manager's boy put his insolent black head in the doorway, and said in a tone of scathing contempt: 
 "'Winnie Pooh - he dead.'"