Soledad: Oh, you ice-cold Norteamericanos. You have no feeling for beauty. Tenderness. For love. All you think about is the gold my father paid you.
Paladin (whispering): Don't talk so loudly. I don't want to lose the gold.
Soledad: You care more about the gold than you do for me.
Paladin: The gold belongs to me and you do not.
Soledad: Conditions can change, ah?
Paladin: Certainly; I may lose the gold.