 What is the relationship between Lanfierre and MacBride?
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The weatherman was always right: Temperature, 59; humidity, 47%; occasional light showers—but of what? The sun was a flaming orange ball in a cloudless blue sky. He was strolling along a quiet residential avenue: small private houses, one after another, a place of little traffic and minimum distractions. But he was thinking about weather, which was an unusual subject to begin with for a person living in a domed city. He was thinking about Optimum Dome Conditions (a crisp 59 degrees, a mildly dessicated 47%) when a bogus postman, who pretended to be reading a postal card, jostled him. In the ensuing contretemps they emptied his rear pants pockets, got his wristwatch and restored the contents of the handkerchief pocket. Dome weevils, their metal arms reaching out with molten glass, roamed the huge casserole, ceaselessly patching and repairing. It was this rather than skill that enabled the police to maintain such a tight surveillance on him, a surveillance that went to the extent of getting his fingerprints off the postman's bag, and which photographed, X-rayed and chemically analyzed the contents of his pockets before returning them. By the time Fownes reached his front door an entire dossier complete with photographs had been prepared and was being read by two men in an orange patrol car parked down the street. Lanfierre's job was to ferret out aberration. Conformity had become more than a social force; it was a physical necessity. And, after years of working at it, Lanfierre had become an admirer of eccentricity. He came to see that genuine quirks were rare and, as time went on, due partly to his own small efforts, rarer. Lanfierre was almost proud of Humphrey Fownes. MacBride looked at the Fownes house through the magnifying glass of the windshield. MacBride returned the notebook to the breast pocket of his orange uniform. In some ways MacBride was a barbarian. Lanfierre had held out on Fownes for months. He had even contrived to engage him in conversation once, a pleasantly absurd, irrational little chat that titillated him for weeks. It was only with the greatest reluctance that he finally mentioned Fownes to MacBride. "It's like this, MacBride. Strong winds, MacBride. Winds like you and I can't imagine. And if there was a house sitting on such a mountain and if winds did blow, it would shake exactly the way that one does. "I'll tell you something else," Lanfierre went on. MacBride whistled.
 Lanfierre is the aberration expert, and MacBride is a cop
 Lanfierre is training in MacBride  MacBride is Lanfierre's superior  they are partners working on the case  Lanfierre is the aberration expert, and MacBride is a cop