To the best of my knowledge, Sensei and his wife were a happy couple. I was not a part of their household, and I wasn't, of course, privy to their intimate dealings. However, there were times when I sat with Sensei and, having need of something, he would call for his wife rather than the maidservant. (His wife's name was Shizu.) "Hey, Shizu," he would call out, turning toward the partition. There was a gentle sound to his voice. His wife would answer back, and then appear, in a manner most deferential. When we dined together on occasion and she joined us at the table, this bond between them was clearer still.
Sensei would sometimes take his wife to a concert or the theater. As I recall, it was also not unusual for them to take short trips together. I still have a picture postcard from their visit to Hakone. From Nikkō, they sent me a maple leaf by post.
This was the relationship between Sensei and his wife as I saw it at the time. There was but a single exception. One day, I arrived as usual and was about to announce myself from the entry hall, when I heard the sound of voices from the parlor. Rather than sounding of normal conversation, they sounded contentious. The parlor in Sensei's house was just off the entry hall, so standing before the partition I could well discern the tones of a quarrel. The raising of a male voice told me one of the parties was Sensei. The other party was more subdued, and I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was Sensei's wife. She was possibly in tears. I lingered for a time in the entry hall, wondering what had happened, then quickly departed and returned to my lodgings.